Something Old, Something New
by CatS81
Summary: In the lead-up to her daughter's wedding, Grace is under pressure to acquire a date...Shameless fluff - I apologise in advance!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I don't own 'Waking the Dead' or any of its characters, the BBC has that honour – I'm just taking them out to play for a bit.

**Pairing**: Boyd/Grace.

**Conten**t: Fluff, Romance.

**Rating**: T/M, for language, adult situations. Probably ;)

**Spoilers**: Nothing specific but since this is set about six months after the series finale, 'Waterloo', I guess anything is fair game.

**A/N**: So, I have various post-'Waterloo' pieces in the pipeline…and this was the one yelling the loudest at me at the moment! I think it's basically going to be fluff…with maybe a hint of smut thrown in later on ;) For the purposes of this story, I'm sticking with the names for Grace's children that I've used in 'Ebb & Flow' and elsewhere, namely Gina, Nick & Beth Sutton. Anyways, hope you enjoy – thanks so much for reading and for keeping the Boyd/Grace dream alive!

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><p>Grace Foley relaxed contentedly against the enveloping cushions of the sofa and took a large draw from her wine glass, the burgundy liquid warming her throat pleasantly as she surveyed the room around her. The cottage was intimate yet spacious, the rich earth-tones of the décor and the soft light from the crackling open fire creating a cosy, inviting atmosphere which had so far proven utterly successful in banishing the stereotypical chill of autumn in the Lake District. Grace smiled as she allowed the wave of happy chatter in the room to wash over her, her heart swelling as her eyes fell inevitably upon her youngest daughter, who was lounging casually on the floor atop a haphazardly scattered pile of beanbags and cushions. Beth Sutton's head was thrown back in jovial laughter, her pale skin aglow with warmth from the fire and she grinned as she caught her mother's eye, raising her glass in a silent salute before resuming her somewhat raucous conversation with the group of girls surrounding her. Grace returned the gesture, her eyes flickering to her left as her attention was caught by the presence of another figure settling on the couch beside her and she smiled broadly, reaching out to take the proffered hand.<p>

"Enjoying yourself, love?" she asked in amusement, her grin widening at the predictable, reactionary groan.

"If she wasn't my sister, I'd run a mile," Gina Sutton replied gruffly, taking a long swallow from her glass before her features slackened in fond sentimentality. "I suppose it could've been worse."

"It could've been a lot worse," Grace agreed.

"Not that she'd have invited us if she'd decided to go to Ayia Napa or Ibiza or one of those other God-awful places."

"Oh, she would. She just wouldn't have expected us to come."

"And she'd have been right. Bloody hell, Mum, can you imagine? It would've been the Hen weekend from hell."

Grace chuckled. "You sound like you're in your fifties, Gina, not your thirties."

"It's just not my bag now I've settled down a bit. I'm honestly so glad she chose something relatively benign in the end."

"Hm. Claire seems to be having a good time, though."

Gina rolled her eyes in a gesture of long-suffering affection. "She's as bad as bloody Beth."

"Things okay with you two?"

The younger woman smiled easily, her cinnamon eyes radiating happiness as they glanced across the room and lingered over the soft curves of her partner's body. "Oh, yeah. Couldn't be better."

"I'm glad. She's good for you, love."

They lapsed into a brief, comfortable silence, Gina shifting to tuck her feet beneath her on the sofa and taking another sip from her wine glass before speaking again. "God, I can't believe it's only two weeks till the wedding," she said. "How long do you give Beth before she starts stressing out?"

Grace smiled fondly. "I'm sure she's got it all under control. You know how organised she is."

"That's true." The younger woman gave her mother a sideways glance. "Has she been on your case yet?"

The psychologist frowned, her features creasing in confusion. "About what?"

Gina laughed incredulously. "About who you're bringing, of course."

Grace felt her mouth fall open in amazement, the unexpectedness of her daughter's statement causing her to draw a sharp breath. "What?" she managed eventually, a sense of dread flickering ominously across her chest.

"Oh, come on, Mum," Gina intoned lightly. "Surely you must have known this would come up eventually?"

"This is the first I've heard of it," Grace replied wryly. "And I'm not even sure I've got anything to say on the subject."

"Beth said she was going to talk to you…."

"She's expecting me to bring someone, then?"

"Well, not necessarily _expecting_. I think she just thought it would be nice."

Grace narrowed her eyes as she absorbed the steadfast neutrality of her daughter's expression, the deliberate avoidance of her gaze. "And are you and Nick also part of this conspiracy?"

Gina sighed loudly. "Oh, for God's sake, it's not a conspiracy. It's just something we've been talking about, that's all."

"For how long?"

The younger woman grimaced sheepishly. "For a while, admittedly."

"So you leave it until there's only two weeks to go before you mention it to me?"

"I honestly thought Beth had brought it up…."

"Well, she hasn't…and even if she had, it wouldn't have made any difference." Grace shook her head, faintly irritated. "What's the problem with me coming by myself, anyway?"

"It's not a problem," Gina replied, reaching for her mother's hand anew. "But look, Mum….I'll be there with Claire, Nick's got Rosa and the kids…."

"And, what? You don't want to spend the whole day worrying about me being by myself?"

"Honestly? Yes."

Grace sighed. "It's sweet of you, love. But you really don't need to."

Gina raised a sceptical eyebrow. "You're telling me you'll be happy watching a roomful of sickeningly loved-up people whispering sweet nothings to each other all evening, dancing, kissing and Christ knows what else?"

"Sounds like you'll be at a different wedding to the one I'm going to."

"Come on, Mum. You've got to admit you'd have a much better time with someone else next to you."

"Well, even if that were true, it's irrelevant, Gina."

"Why?" The younger woman looked suddenly serious, her eyebrows knitting together in a concerned frown as a sense of realisation settled about her shoulders. "Oh, Mum. Don't tell me it's because you feel bad that Dad won't be there?"

Grace sighed, a soft exhalation of air from her lungs at the mention of her late husband. "It's not that, love. I mean, of course I'm going to miss him, it's a special day in the life of any parent…."

"We're all going to miss him. But you can't let that hold you back from bringing someone else with you." Gina squeezed the older woman's hand, trying not to dwell on the delicate bones beneath her grip. "He'd want you to, you know."

"Oh, I know. But I'm not exactly in a position to ask anyone, alright?"

The younger woman looked unconvinced. "So you're _not_ seeing anyone, then?"

"No," Grace replied in surprise, glancing sideways at her daughter in astonishment. "Whatever gave you the idea that I was?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that every time I call you on a Friday night you're not in?"

"Am I not allowed out, then? I know I'm the wrong side of sixty, love, but I'm not exactly geriatric."

Gina grinned broadly, knowingly. "So who are you with?"

Grace shrugged, feeling an intense desire for evasion beneath her eldest child's scrutiny. "Just…friends, that's all."

"Any friend in particular? Peter Boyd, for instance?"

The older woman rolled her eyes at the teasing undertone, the mention of her former colleague's name causing an odd constriction across her chest. "I can't give you an answer to that without inviting the Spanish Inquisition, can I?"

Gina laughed. "It's not a problem if you're seeing him, you know. I think we'd all actually be quite relieved the pair of you have finally got around to it."

"I'm not seeing him," Grace insisted firmly. "At least, not in the way that you mean."

"Well, what other way is there?"

"Oh, for goodness sake," the psychologist intoned wearily before taking another generous draw from her glass. "He's a friend, Gina, alright? We go out for dinner, we drink decent wine and we have long and sometimes bloody infuriating conversations…."

"Ah. Are you deliberately omitting the bit where you ask him in for coffee next?"

"Gina!" Grace admonished sharply, her eyebrows darting towards her hairline.

Her daughter's eyes were shining mischievously though she maintained an expression of studious innocence. "What?"

"You've obviously had far too much wine if you're asking me something like that. I'm still your mother, you know."

"Mum, don't take it so seriously. We're all very happy for you."

"Oh, God," Grace groaned. "Read my lips, Gina: there is nothing going on…."

"Well, it sounds like you're a couple in all but name…."

"…and that's the end of it; okay?"

Gina held up her free palm in a gesture of placation. "Whatever you say."

"Good. Can we talk about something else now?"

The younger woman laughed loudly. "On one condition."

Grace sighed heavily and glared darkly at the beaming face of her eldest child. "Why do I have a feeling I'm not going to like this?"

"Because you're too bloody clever for your own good?" Gina sobered slightly and shifted to link her arm through her mother's, her voice softening. "Will you at least ask him?"

"Gina…."

"Just ask him. What's the worst that could happen?"

__That I make a huge bloody fool of myself in front of the man who I…__She shook her head firmly to prevent the fatalistic completion of the thought. "Fine," she intoned grudgingly. "Will you give it a rest now please?"

"Absolutely. I promise to spend the rest of the evening in a suitably drunken stupor and never mention it again."

"You do what you like. Just remember I'm too old to hold your hair back while you're being sick."

Gina's easy grin returned to brighten her features. "That's what you think."

"That's what I _know_, love."

"And on that note, I'm going to get a re-fill. Want anything?"

Grace smiled and shook her head, watching her daughter rise from the sofa and towards the group relaxing on the floor, her slender body settling closely next to that of her partner's as she sat down to join them, her fingers closing enthusiastically about the nearest bottle of wine. Grace felt her heart overflow as she observed the elation on the faces of both of her daughters, their strikingly similar features creasing with laughter as another member of the group regaled them with stories of frivolity, and she felt an immense sense of gratitude warm the bones of her chest. _I'm so glad they've all found someone to share their lives with_, she mused happily, her thoughts moving to additionally encompass those of her son. _God, when I think of the mess I've made of my own love life since their father died…._She sighed slightly, trying desperately to assuage the perpetual, siren call of melancholia, aware of the ease at which her thoughts on the subject could spiral into despair. _And now this mention of Boyd….Christ, I don't even want to go there; that ship sailed a long time ago…didn't it?_ She gave a determined shake of her head to dispel the tiny ember of hope that burned incessantly in her soul. _I'll ask him as a friend, _she thought steadfastly_. Nothing more. And even then he'll probably say no…._Taking a deep breath to quell the rising flood of sorrow through her heart, Grace forced herself back to the present and to the increasingly cacophonous laughter bubbling infectiously from across the glowing room.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer,****Pairing,****Rating**** &**** Spoilers**: See chapter 1.

**A/N**: Sorry for the delay in getting this written – I have spent the last week tending to a very poorly little boy and as such, I've had no time…Also, apologies if the formatting looks a bit wonky in this chapter; for some reason, I'm having trouble uploading italics from MS Word at the moment! Anyways, thank you for your lovely comments on chapter 1; hope this update doesn't disappoint…

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><p>Grace pulled her cardigan closer about her body and shivered as the restaurant door opened, allowing a rush of bitter air to briefly engulf the small room before being quickly subdued by the maître d'. He flashed her an apologetic smile and she raised a palm dismissively, her attention instantly caught by the imposing figure at his side. She allowed herself a momentary indulgence as she appraised the broad planes partially concealed beneath his long winter coat, the strong hand running roughly through the damp strands of his silver hair, the deep baritone resonating through his chest as he was held to a brief exchange of pleasantries. <em>God, how can he still have this effect on me after all these years? <em>She thought achingly, willing away the warm tendrils of arousal beginning to snake through her synapses, a sense of futility following immediately in its wake.

They had seen each other frequently since the disbandment of the Cold Case Unit some six months previously, an unconscious pattern that had become habitual, and Grace had found herself eagerly anticipating each encounter despite the deep sense of longing imbibing her heart at their close. Initially she had found the equilibrium in their meetings intensely frustrating; they interacted in essentially the way they always had and although he had never mentioned seeing anyone else, neither had he given her the impression that he was seeking to deepen their own connection. She had forced down her bitter disappointment, choosing instead to focus on how much she enjoyed his company as a friend, and now several months down the line she finally felt, for the most part, in control of her feelings. Of course, she mused as she watched him divest himself of his coat and raise his hand towards her in greeting, there was still inevitably the odd time where she succumbed to a moment of weakness. He was, had always been, devastatingly handsome; rugged, broad and obliquely charming, and there were times where she feared she would cheerfully sell her soul for the taste of his lips on hers, for the feel of his body beneath her hands. She shook her head firmly to clear the somewhat whimsical notion and raised her eyebrows at him as he approached the table.

"Funny sort of seven-thirty," she opened wryly, deliberately glancing towards the ornate wall clock before fixing him with a mock glare.

"Sorry," Peter Boyd intoned apologetically, allowing her to half rise before stretching to brush a brief kiss across her cheek, his hand squeezing her arm gently. "You can blame the tyrannical DCI Jordan."

Grace smiled at the mention of their newly-promoted former colleague as she settled back in her chair and watched her companion do the same. "Is he cracking the whip, then?"

Boyd grunted in acknowledgment. "I think he's relishing the fact that he's finally my boss. He looks like the cat that got the cream."

She laughed. "Well, what did you expect, Boyd? It sort of comes with the territory if you agree to consult on a case with your former subordinate."

"He's pushing his luck a bit, that's all. Especially if he wants this to become a regular set-up."

Grace raised a quizzical eyebrow as she poured him a glass of wine and topped up her own. "Is it likely?"

"Depends on how keen the brass are to still have me hanging around." He paused thoughtfully and took a long pull from his glass. "I suppose it beats the idea of full-time retirement."

"You have to face it eventually, you know."

"Don't remind me," he acquiesced reluctantly, taking another enthusiastic sip of the aromatic wine before speaking again. "Spence sends his love, by the way."

She smiled fondly. "Is he well? I haven't spoken to him for a while."

"Yeah. Too bloody well for his own good," Boyd grumbled, though his dark eyes were shining. "How are you, anyway?"

Grace forced her smile to broaden, trying to quell the sudden onslaught of nervousness in her stomach. _I __can__'__t __do __this __now__…__._"I'm fine," she said casually. "The publisher's keeping my nose to the grindstone…."

He grinned teasingly. "What was that you were saying about retirement?"

"I'm just keeping my brain ticking over. From the comfort of my own living room, I might add."

"Yeah, but won't they then force you to do promotional stuff and…?"

"It's not a novel, Boyd. It's an academic reference book."

He smirked and rolled his eyes sardonically. "Sounds thrilling."

"Hm. I'm thinking of wrapping you up a copy for Christmas."

"As a cure for my insomnia, you mean?"

"Oh, you're hilarious," she retorted good-naturedly. "Ha bloody ha."

He laughed loudly, deeply before sobering again as he reached for the menu, his eyes scanning across the dinner choices in preference to meeting her gaze. "Do you ever miss it?" he asked quietly.

"What?"

"Police work. Profiling." _Me__…__?_

Grace inclined her head pensively. "Sometimes."

"Only sometimes?"

"I miss the team," she intoned softly, instantly catching the undertone, the slight note of sadness lacing his voice. "And I miss the intrigue and the intellectual rigour of the cases…but, you know, I'm actually enjoying having some time for myself. Spending time with my children and grandchildren, helping my daughter to plan her wedding…."

"Jesus, Grace," he groaned theatrically. "It all sounds so bloody…domestic. Pedestrian, even."

"I'm in my mid-sixties, Boyd," she laughed lightly, glancing towards the waiter hovering politely a few feet away and gesturing for him to approach.

"And that's an excuse, is it?"

"Well, what would you rather hear? That I'm having some kind of late-life crisis…?"

"Yeah," he said encouragingly, a devilish grin spreading across his features. "Sports car, Botox, a forty-something man…."

"For God's sake," she complained mildly. "Do you really think that's me?"

"I'm just saying that there's absolutely no need to grow old gracefully in this day and age."

"Whatever you say….Now do you think we could possibly order? Pedestrian or not, we still have to eat."

He laughed enthusiastically, their easy, predictable banter enriching his soul and he drained his wine in a single gulp before raising his voice to address the waiter.

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><p>The coffee was reassuringly dark and intensely bitter, pleasantly warming the marrow of his bones as Boyd reached for the bill, his eyes tracing the retreating back of his companion as she headed towards the washroom. Their evenings together were fast becoming a prominent feature of his fortnight, he mused contentedly, a fact that he had failed to see approaching until it was unabashedly staring him in the face. They had survived an immense array of trauma between them over the previous few years; her treatment for cancer, the death of his son, a personally devastating encounter with the psychopath, Linda Cummings, all eventually culminating in his framing for the murder of a colleague and the subsequent closure of the CCU. Grace had immediately suggested therapy and he had found himself agreeing, the psychological exhaustion catching up with him in a sudden rush and leaving him utterly debilitated, utterly drained. It had taken many months for him to begin to let go and she had been there for all of it, her quiet strength and perpetual calm helping him to slowly heal the fractures in his soul, and he was well aware that he would never be able to adequately express his gratitude. He tried not to dwell on what he suspected was beginning to creep up on him, the inevitable changing of the tide in his heart for the woman who had quite literally stood by his side for the better part of a decade. <em>We<em>_'__ve __been __friends __for __so __many __years_, he thought with a frown. _And now we've finally reached this comfortable plateau….I'd be a fucking idiot to try and muddy the waters by…._He blinked, forcing away the notion as he leant forward to proffer his credit card to the waiter. _I can't go there. Simple as that_. With a brief smile towards his host, he rose from the chair and took several steps towards the door, turning back as he became aware of the younger man calling for his attention a few seconds later.

"Excuse me, sir," the waiter intoned quietly as he reached the former detective. "I believe your wife left this at the table…?"

Boyd reigned in an amused snort at the man's natural assumption and smiled widely as he accepted the plum coloured scarf. "Thank you," he replied, his dark eyes shining. "I'd never have heard the end of it."

"Have a good evening, sir."

The waiter gave a knowing smile before tipping his head in a courteous nod and retreating, leaving Boyd to continue to grin to himself, the thick wool of the scarf soft against his fingers. He stepped out into the chill of the autumn night, resisting a powerful urge to caress the invitingly warm material against his nose, to breathe in the scent of her, but he quickly dismissed it as folly and pressed it into the deep pocket of his coat. _I__'__ve __got __to __get __a __handle __on __this_, he thought with determination. _She__'__s __my __friend__…__and __she __deserves __far __better __than __I __could __ever __hope __to __offer __her__…__._Moments later the focus for his melancholia emerged through the door in his wake, a frown of irritation creasing her delicate features as she approached him.

"Boyd, did you pick up my…?"

He removed the aforementioned item from his pocket with a flourish, grinning crookedly as he held it out towards her, her words trailing into silence as she took it gratefully. "The waiter followed me out," he answered, a mischievous lilt to his voice as he failed to mask his regalement, watching as the creamy skin of her neck disappeared beneath the generous swathes of rich fabric. "Apparently my wife left it behind on the back of her chair…."

Grace chuckled softly and raised an eyebrow, desperately trying to quell the sudden pounding of her heart, the futile images exploding behind her eyes. "Did she indeed?"

"Yeah. Brain like a sieve, he said."

She tutted in mock disapproval, aware that a smile was beginning to pull at the corners of her mouth. "And he seemed like such a nice young man."

"This is where I remind you of not judging a book by its cover…."

"Hm." She looked at him quizzically. "Did you not think to correct him?"

"About the sieve-like nature of your brain?" He grinned as she rolled her eyes. "It wasn't exactly an unfair assumption, was it?"

Grace shrugged lightly. "I suppose not."

"There you go, then."

He turned to walk away then and she hurried to catch up to him, resisting the enticing attraction of slipping her arm through his as she reached his side, and they walked in a companionable silence towards their respective cars. Grace fumbled in her handbag for her keys and pulled her coat closer about her body to guard against the biting wind, her stomach churning as her thoughts turned to the subject she had studiously circumvented since the beginning of the evening.

"So, listen, Boyd," she began, aware that she was struggling to prevent her nervousness from encroaching into her voice. "I need to ask you something…."

He raised his eyebrows in question and moved to stand beside her against the door of her car, unconsciously positioning his body to shield her from the increasingly gale. "That sounds ominous."

"Not really." She shrugged, an attempt at nonchalance. "My children have been on my back and they…."

"Christ, that's role reversal, isn't it?"

Grace nudged his shoulder amiably. "Seriously."

He grinned. "What do you want to ask me, Grace?"

She sighed, frustration twisting in her chest as butterflies took wing in her stomach. "It's my daughter's wedding in two weeks…."

Boyd feigned surprise, his mischievous grin broadening. "Is it?"

"Haven't I mentioned it once or twice?" Her sapphire eyes were sparkling, their easy banter a balm for her anxiety.

"You might have done…and those might have been the occasions where I zoned out."

The psychologist rolled her eyes. "Anyway, my kids….my daughters, in particular….don't think I should go on my own and I…."

His eyebrows rose, the surprise now genuine. "You were planning on going on your own?"

"Well, yes." She blinked. "Why does everyone seem to think that's odd?"

The policeman raised a placating palm. "Not odd. Just unusual, that's all."

"I'm a widow, Boyd."

"I know that."

"My children's father passed away more than twenty years ago and I…."

"Ah. So you'd feel guilty taking anyone else, is that it?"

She exhaled incredulously, her breath a mist of white in the cool evening air. "I thought I was the psychologist."

He gave a small smile. "Did I touch a nerve?"

"No….Yes," she admitted with a slight grimace, watching his smile widen knowingly before she sighed again. "The fact that I'll miss Jack on the day has got nothing to do with…."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, for God's sake; you're as bad as my kids," she intoned irritably, closing her eyes briefly to steel herself for inevitable mortification before forcing the words past her vocal chords. "Would you come with me, then? I mean, if you've not already got plans for the nineteenth…."

His smile was irksomely playful as he allowed her question to hang suspended in the air between them for several seconds. "As your date?"

Grace looked at him, absorbing the impish glint to his dark eyes, the assumptive smile playing across his lips. _Oh,__ you __cheeky __bastard__…__You__'__ve __been __expecting __this, __haven__'__t __you?_ "You don't need to look as though you're enjoying this quite so much," she sighed wearily.

"Oh, come on. I thought you might have brought this up weeks ago…."

"I couldn't possibly have asked someone else?"

"Well, have you?"

"That's not the point."

He chuckled. "You didn't answer my question, Grace. About whether or not you're asking me to be your…."

She shook her head firmly and raised a palm to interrupt him. "I'm just talking about one friend helping out another so she doesn't have to put up with quite so much incessant nagging from her nosey children…and to keep her company on an important day in her life….Alright?"

Boyd shrugged in easy acquiescence, unable to entirely quell the disappointment that radiated through his gut. "Alright."

Grace felt her eyebrows quirk upwards, aware that her astonishment was written unavoidably into the contours of her features. "Really?"

"Of course." He laughed deeply, resonantly. "What did you think I'd say?"

"To be honest, I thought you'd at least put up half a fight. Social occasions aren't exactly high on your list of life's pleasures, are they?"

"I'm making an exception…on the proviso of course that there's a free bar."

"I knew there had to be an ulterior motive," she replied in jocular realisation. "Don't get your hopes up. I'm retired, remember?"

He pulled a face. "You can't just play that card whenever it suits you, you know."

"Oh, I can. Certainly as far as Beth is concerned."

"Ah; so she doesn't tap you for more money, you mean?"

"Exactly."

He tutted. "I had no idea you were quite so shrewd, Doctor Foley."

"Self-preservation, Boyd. I'd be bankrupt by now if I was anything else."

His responding laughter was rich and intoxicating, amusement radiating from every pore of his being and it was several seconds before he composed himself anew. "How are you fixed next week, Grace?"

She smiled, warmth infusing her chest at his question. "I'm sure I could find an hour or so for coffee."

"Good. Then you can give me the full lecture on expected codes of conduct and who I shouldn't say what to whom."

"You worried about showing me up, Boyd?" Her smile broadened impishly before her features settled into a knowing expression. "Ah; you're expecting me to tell you who it's acceptable for you to flirt with and whether my attractive thirty-something nieces are off limits."

He blew out a derisive breath and rolled his eyes, his stomach twisting slightly at her words. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I know you. It's the only way you know how to get through events like this."

"Maybe in my youth…."

She laughed incredulously. "So it _wasn__'__t_ only a few years ago that you spent the whole of the Met Christmas party glued to young WPC…what was her name again?"

He nudged her shoulder and grunted. "Piss off."

She laughed again, the sound bubbling in a wave from her body. "Just don't get any ideas; about my nieces, Beth's friends…."

"Grace, contrary to popular opinion…I _can_ bow to social convention when the occasion calls for it."

"Well, that's good to know."

He turned to look at her, a sudden need to reassure her prevalent in his mind. "You don't have to worry. In all seriousness."

She blinked, her eyes searching his for the briefest of moments, the sincerity written into his expression causing a flicker of hope to nestle beneath her ribs. "Okay," she replied quietly, willing herself not to overanalyse his statement despite the desperate yearning of her intellectual mind.

He nodded in approval and leant forward to brush his mouth softly across her cheek. "I'll call you next week," he said, pulling away to step back towards his car.

"Don't work too hard," Grace called mischievously, grinning as he groaned and gestured for her to open her own vehicle. "See you soon."

She waved a final time before acquiescing, grateful for the relative warmth of her car compared to the arctic chill of the outside air, and she felt a shuddering sigh leave her lungs, the upbeat atmosphere of the previous minutes subsiding as her mind moved irrevocably over their exchange. _Christ, __it__'__s __pathetic __to __be__ nervous __about __this_, she scolded herself crossly. _He__'__s __agreed __to __come__…__as __a __friend __and __it__'__s __as __simple __as __that__…__.I__'__ve __got __absolutely __no __right __to __tell __him__ who __he __can __and __can__'__t __flirt __with__…__and__ I__'__m __dreading __having __to __field __a __thousand__ questions __from__ my __extended __family__…__._She sighed again and closed her eyes. _Bloody __hell, __I__'__m__ regretting __this __already__…__._With a grimace of self-recrimination, Grace turned the key in the ignition and pulled away from the curb.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer,****Pairing,****Rating****&****Spoilers**: See chapter 1.

**A/N**: Thank you all so much for your lovely comments on this so far – it's proving to be a lot of fun to write so I'm glad you're enjoying it! For those awaiting an update on 'Ebb & Flow'….I am trying to convince the muse but seemingly she would much rather write fluff just at the mo – apologies, I will do my best to get the next part written asap. In the meantime…

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><p>"So, what do you think?"<p>

Beth Sutton moved shyly from behind the curtain, her hands moving instinctively to trace the ivory lace across her hips, self-consciously smoothing the luxurious material about the curves of her waist as she took a cautious step towards the centre of the brightly-lit room. Within seconds she found herself in an enthusiastic embrace, her sister's arms enveloping her before the older woman pulled back to press a firm kiss to her cheek, Gina's face alight with excitement.

"Gorgeous," she breathed animatedly, squeezing Beth's shoulders to reinforce her sincerity. "Mike's not going to know what's hit him."

The younger woman beamed, her intense blue eyes igniting with happiness and relief. "Well, that's the general idea."

"You'll knock his socks off," Gina reaffirmed, turning slightly to address the petite woman who was standing opposite them, absorbing the bright liquidity of her mother's eyes with a gentle smile. "Won't she, Mum?"

Grace Foley swallowed and nodded wordlessly, a swirl of emotion pooling heavily in her chest and she was unable to prevent the tears from trickling across her cheeks, her lips curving into a sheepish smile as her daughters' fond reactive laughter ricocheted around the room. Beth approached and slid an arm about her mother's waist.

"Oh, Mum, this is only the final dress fitting…"

"Exactly," Grace replied, taking a deep breath to re-establish her control. "So isn't it better I get all of my embarrassing crying done now rather than on the day itself?"

Gina snorted though her eyes were twinkling. "I don't think it quite works like that, does it? And besides, if Nick's wedding was anything to go by…."

"Yes, alright," the psychologist replied mildly, her fingers brushing the residual tears rapidly away. "It _is_ a mother's prerogative to get a bit emotional on her child's wedding day, you know."

"You need a stabilising influence. Someone to tell you to pull yourself together...and/or keep you in tissues for the duration."

"About that," Beth interjected quickly before her mother could retort once more. "Any news on whether…?"

Grace held up a warning palm. "Do you want to at least get out of your dress before you start hounding me, love?"

The youngest Sutton woman grinned. "I can multi-task."

"More's the pity. Seriously; breath-takingly beautiful as you look, go and put your scruffs back on and then I'll take you both for a coffee."

Beth's features creased into a mock pout as she flounced back behind the curtain to obey her mother's directive, Gina grinning devilishly as she replaced her sister at the older woman's side. "Sustenance?" she asked slyly, her smile broadening at Grace's responding groan.

"For me, absolutely. The two of you are definitely having de-caff."

"Matters not. It's called a natural high, Mum, and it should see us through to…oh, about eight o'clock, I'd say."

"Great. So I can look forward to two solid hours of incessant questioning and badgering, then?"

"Yep." Gina gave a triumphant smirk. "We don't plan to draw a breath."

"Oh, terrific."

She shrugged. "It's payback; you _do_ realise that, don't you? All those years where you used to give us the third degree about who we were with and what we were doing…."

"Yes, but there's a difference, Gina: you were children, _my_ children at that…"

"And we needed a good kick up the arse from time to time, I agree." Gina grinned again, her eyes glinting mischievously. "There's an undeniable parallel here, Mum."

"I do not need a kick up the arse," Grace replied tartly, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed her daughter's teasing demeanour. "I'm sixty six years old, for God's sake."

"Meaning you know exactly what you're doing when it comes to matters of the heart?"

"We're not talking about that."

"Aren't we?"

"No." The psychologist's voice was firm.

"At least not before you've had a coffee?"

"Not even then."

Gina took a breath to reply but was interrupted by the reappearance of Beth, her slender body now clad once more in indigo jeans and heavy-knit wool, her pale cheeks flushed as she approached them.

"God, that thing's tight," she announced brightly, smiling at the shop assistant as she handed her the finished article. "Remind me not to eat between now and the…Why does Mum look like she's about to kill you?"

Gina laughed loudly at her sister's sudden observation and she kissed her mother enthusiastically on the cheek. "Come on. Finish off what you need to do and let's get going. I'm gasping."

Beth raised her eyebrows in question towards Grace who gave a long-suffering shake of her head. "Later, love. Let's go and make sure we've got the arrangements right and then I'm sure you can join your sister in the doghouse if that's really where you want to spend the rest of the evening."

The young woman grinned and looped her arm through her mother's. "Sounds great."

"I'm sure."

With a final, brief word to the dressmaker, the three women stepped from the shop and into the faded charcoal grey of early evening in the city.

* * *

><p>"Absolutely not." Grace's voice was a study in resplendently quiet determination, her tone clearly audible despite the cacophony of background noise in the busy coffee shop. "It's out of the question."<p>

"But he's your date," Beth protested, her delicate features creased in consternation as she looked to her sister for support.

"He's not my date."

"Well, as good as."

"I don't care, Beth," her mother reiterated forcefully. "There's no way he's going to be coming in the wedding car; end of story."

Gina leant forward, holding up her hands in placation. "How about he drops you at Beth's in the morning and then meets us at the church?"

"He lives across the river…."Grace tailed off as she caught the amusement lacing her daughter's face, the unspoken assumption of her words. "Don't go there, Gina."

"It wouldn't exactly be putting him out, would it?"

"Yes it would, as it happens."

"So he _won__'__t_ be at yours the night before, then?"

The older woman exhaled wearily and rubbed a hand across her eyes. "How many times do we have to go over this? He's a friend…"

"With benefits?"

"I mean it, love. That's enough."

Gina laughed, relenting instantly beneath her mother's barely disguised irritation. "Okay, okay."

"But to put an end to this incessant hassling, I'll ask him about the lift; alright?" Grace looked between her daughters. "Everybody happy now?"

"Well, that's one thing to cross off the list at least," Beth replied with a shrug, taking a large sip from her coffee before regarding her family anew. "How about we tackle the issue of the top table next?"

"What issue?" Grace asked mildly, a vague sense of dread filtering through her consciousness. "I thought you'd planned it weeks ago?"

"Oh, I did. But that was before Boyd…"

"Beth," the psychologist sighed, raising a warning palm. "He's not…"

"Well, where else is he going to sit?"

"Look, it's hardly appropriate, alright?"

"Why not?" Beth blinked, a sense of realisation washing over her at the strain in her mother's tone and she took the older woman's hand instinctively. "I wish Dad was going to be there too," she said softly. "But leaving a space for him on the table isn't going to make it happen, is it?"

"No," Grace agreed gently, squeezing her daughter's slender fingers, her heart contracting briefly with sorrow. "But neither is Boyd any kind of father-figure in your life, love. He's just a good friend of mine who's agreed to accompany me on the day; that's all."

"So, in other words, you definitely don't want him sitting next to you? Even if the alternative is a huge headache for me?"

"Would it really be that much of a chore?"

"I just assumed I'd sit him, or whoever you ended up bringing, next to you. Now I'm going to have to re-think the whole bloody room."

Gina rolled her eyes. "Don't be so melodramatic."

"No, it's true," Beth protested, frowning. "It wasn't an unreasonable assumption to make, Mum, was it?"

Grace sighed, feeling her resistance falling through notches as she absorbed the acute anxiety lacing her youngest child's expression. "I suppose not."

"And you wouldn't want me to have a break-down this close to the day, would you?"

"Oh, for God's sake, Beth." Gina leant forward, exhaling forcefully. "Stop with the wounded baby act and get some perspective."

"It's alright," Grace interjected, patting her elder daughter's leg gratefully beneath the table before addressing her younger one anew. "Sit him wherever's easiest for you, love."

Beth gave a small sigh of relief. "Even if that means next to you?"

"Yes. But," the psychologist continued quickly, raising a finger towards both of her children. "This does not give you carte blanche for anything else, alright?"

"Anything else like what?" Beth asked innocently, her pale blue eyes wide as she exchanged a brief, furtive glance with her sister.

"Any ridiculous notion the two of you might have about…match-making."

Gina chuckled loudly, the momentary tension with her sibling forgotten. "Don't worry, Mum. Beth will be too busy on the day to even think about it and I…Well…"

"You, what?"

She grinned widely, wickedly. "I'm sure you can rely on Claire to keep me in line."

Grace tutted fondly. "Well, thank God for Claire, then. I'll hold her to it."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence then, each briefly alone with their thoughts before Gina spoke again, draining her coffee cup and glancing at her watch. "Are we done, then, Beth? I'm taking Claire out to dinner and….I'm sure Mum doesn't want to keep Boyd waiting…"

The older woman groaned afresh as her daughters cackled devilishly, conspiratorially. "Go on, get out of here, the both of you and leave me to finish my coffee in peace."

Beth smiled broadly as she rose to kiss her mother on the cheek, Gina following rapidly in her wake. "I'll call you tomorrow," the younger sister said before pulling back to wrap her raspberry scarf about the pale skin of her neck.

"Just as long as it's not for more needling, love, okay?" Grace replied wearily, half standing to accept a further kiss from her elder child. "There's only so much I can take in any given twenty-four hour period."

Gina slid her arm through her sister's, drawing a breath before the younger woman could reply. "I'll make sure of it," she said, an amused smile playing at the edges of her lips. "We need to ration it out, anyway, or we'll run out of steam."

"Seriously; off you go," Grace intoned firmly though she was abundantly aware that her eyes were shining. "I'll see you both soon."

With a final grin, Gina led her sister towards the door of the café, leaving their mother to release her breath into the sudden tranquillity, the residual levity of their collective mood distorting quickly into a flutter of anxiety across her chest. _God, this could so easily get out of control_, she thought darkly, mindlessly sipping from the remnants of her drink. _ I don't want people to think….What, exactly? And am I more worried about how all of this will look…or about how he'll react to the incessant insinuation? _She exhaled heavily and allowed her head to fall back against the wall. _I should just have said no at the outset_, she mused wryly, _and nipped this in the bud before it started….I'm still too bloody soft on those girls, even after all these years…._Sighing deeply anew, Grace rose from her chair and made her way towards the exit, wrapping her coat tightly about her body in dreaded anticipation of the bitter autumn chill.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer, ****Pairing, ****Rating ****&**** Spoilers**: See chapter 1.

**A/N**: Huge apologies for the delay with this – my son was recently hospitalised with suspected meningitis so everything else kinda went out the window! Lots of intravenous antibiotics later and he seems to be ok…so my life is slowly returning to normal, whatever that means ;) Thank you all so much for your continued support with this fic – your comments really mean a lot to me x

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><p>Grace stood before the full-length mirror and frowned critically at her reflection, anxiety rippling caustically through her chest as she surveyed the woman staring back at her. It had taken months of shopping to find an outfit, her daughters convincing her that the midnight blue dress was both flattering and appropriate but now as she appraised the rich material outlining every curve, every nuance of her body she found herself seized in the crushing grip of doubt. <em>God, what on earth was I thinking?<em> She berated wordlessly, smoothing the fabric across the soft swell of her stomach before tracing the accentuated contours of her breasts with an intensifying sense of self-denigration, her grimace deepening immeasurably. _I __look __ridiculous. __Mutton __dressed __as __bloody__ lamb. _With a sigh she reached for her jacket, desperately hoping the stylish cut of the expensive apparel would conceal the aspects of her body the dress was so expertly enhancing, her stomach lurching as the doorbell rang suddenly from the floor below. She drew a deep, centring breath, forcing the lingering uncertainty to the pit of her stomach before descending the stairs and slipping into her heels, her heart beginning to pound nervously as she opened the front door. _Here __goes__ nothing__…_

Peter Boyd was smiling warmly despite the glistening frost of the still morning, his body encased beneath a thick winter coat, the merest hint of a deep plum shirt just visible beneath the collar. "Morning," he opened huskily, his breath escaping in plumes of white from between his lips, his hands lodged firmly in his pockets to assuage the icy chill. "You look good."

"Thank you," she replied quickly, self-consciousness threatening to consume her as she caught the gaze that flickered briefly across her body before returning to her face. "Come in a minute, will you? It's freezing."

He obeyed instantly, stepping across the threshold, and Grace felt her breath catch painfully as she inhaled the scent of him; sharp, spicy notes of aftershave coupled with a hint of something entirely more elemental and masculine… _No_, she resolved firmly as her mind went into overdrive. _I__ am __not __going __to __do __this __to __myself. __Not__ today__…_

"I just need to get my bag," she announced aloud, turning away to enforce a distance between them, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she fumbled with the contents of her delicate handbag, silently chastising herself for her uncharacteristic lack of composure.

From across the hallway, Boyd leant against the wall and slowly released his breath, unable to prevent himself from watching her as she fussed with her belongings. The dress was utterly spectacular, he mused as he folded his arms across the breadth of his chest, his eyes tracing the sensuous curves of her hips and backside, the deep blue material closely following the unquestionably feminine lines of her form. _Christ, who the hell knew she was hiding a body like that? Ten bloody years I've known the woman and I've never seen her looking so damn…Jesus, talk about an eye-opener. Oh, shit_. He blinked in dreaded realisation as he found himself beginning to fantasise about the feel of her beneath his palms, the desire to trace the slender waist, the flared hips igniting hotly in his blood and he shook his head firmly, desperate to dispel the enticing notion before it could spiral out of control. __This is Grace_, _he reiterated silently, steadfastly_. _Grace._ _The same Grace who I've drawn blood with over the years, the same Grace who's driven me out of my mind with irritation and exasperation… __He inhaled sharply as she turned and bent to retrieve her hastily dropped keys, affording him an indulgent view of her cleavage, the creamy skin lusciously framed by the inky sleekness of her dress._ _Fucking hell_, _he thought helplessly._ _I could really be in trouble here…__

"Ready?" he asked gruffly as she straightened once more, clearing his throat roughly as he tried to suppress the intensely erotic charge crackling through his blood.

"As I'll ever be," she replied with a shrug, her brow rapidly furrowing as she noted his studiously guarded expression. "What?"

He shook his head, unable to prevent a slow smile from spreading across his features. "Nothing."

"No, seriously…." She paused, her frown deepening as her hands flitted briefly across her dress, her mind instantly interpreting his expression as ridicule. "I told my girls this was laughable but somehow they talked me into it. I'm actually half-tempted to go and change."

_Oh,__ Christ; __don__'__t __you __fucking__ dare__…_ Boyd looked deliberately at his watch as he forced away the powerful notion. "I don't think you've got time, have you?"

She sighed in agreement, glancing towards the ornate grandfather clock standing against the wall. "I suppose not."

"Besides, which…don't you think the younger generation sometimes know what they're talking about?"

"Not in this particular instance, Boyd."

He raised his eyebrows. "No?"

"No. I should have put my damn foot down…."

"And, what? Gone for some stereotypical mother-of-the-bride floral thing?"

She shrugged lightly. "At least it would have been more fitting for my age."

"Oh, bollocks to that," he replied bluntly, succinctly, a heavy sigh following his words. "You're not going to keeping banging on about this all day, are you?"

"I'll be too busy…."

"Thank Christ for that."

"…but a moment of self-consciousness right before I walk out the door is understandable, don't you think?"

He gave a snort of derision. "Not even remotely."

Grace rolled her eyes, an odd constriction tightening across her chest. "Your empathy knows no bounds, then, obviously."

"Oh, for God's sake; that wasn't my point, Grace."

With a sigh she moved to step past him and towards the front door, undeniably irritated by his brusqueness, by their innate ability to lace barbs into any conversation and she turned to look back at him as he failed to follow in her wake. "We should go," she said sharply. "I don't want Beth to start stressing out this early in the day."

He nodded before moving towards her, reaching out to catch her lightly at the waist as she took a further step towards the door. "My point was," he said gently, "that you have absolutely no reason to feel self-conscious; alright?"

"Don't I?" She blinked as she turned her head slightly to acknowledge him, his palm pleasantly warm through the luxurious material of her dress, and she gave a breathy sigh. "I just feel I should have had more input and now I…."

"Stop being so bloody obtuse," he interrupted wearily. "You look great…and somewhere deep in that complicated, infuriating female brain of yours, you know it."

Grace tutted though the corners of her lips began to quirk upwards into a grateful smile. "A mind-reader _and_ a philosopher?"

Boyd grunted in accession. "All rolled into one."

"Hm," she replied, her eyes narrowing with mock scepticism. "And to think you kept it so well hidden for the best part of a decade."

"Well, of course I did." He felt his eyes lock powerfully to hers, the double meaning of his statement abundantly clear despite the lightness of his tone and he released his hold on her abruptly, an intense desire for distance gnawing at his chest. "Got everything?"

She nodded as she stepped away, the nervous flutter in her stomach magnifying as his words tumbled over each other in her mind. "I think so."

"Let's go, then."

He followed her from the house as she stepped over the threshold, frustration threading artfully through his consciousness and tightening painfully in his throat. __What the hell was that?_ _He asked himself accusingly._ _Some half-arsed way of telling her how fucking gorgeous she…? There should be nothing stopping me, absolutely nothing…and yet I can't quite….Fucking pathetic.__ He shook his head determinedly, willing away the crippling uncertainty as he opened his car and slid into the driver's seat.

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><p>Gina Sutton leant happily back against the bar and sipped from the cheerfully bubbling glass of champagne in her hand. The church ceremony had been simple and beautiful, the ecstasy radiating from her sister and now brother-in-law almost as palpable as the joy reflected in the faces of the congregation. Gina smiled fondly at the recent memory, the expression widening as Claire approached from across the room and settled at her side, slipping an affectionate arm about her waist.<p>

"Any more of that champagne going?" the younger woman asked impishly, holding out her empty glass in anticipation and smiling broadly as Gina rolled her eyes.

"Honestly. I should have known you didn't offer to pay for it out of the goodness of your heart."

Claire laughed at the feigned disapproval in her partner's tone, even as she refilled her glass. "I most certainly did."

"But only so you could down it without feeling guilty."

"It's a pre-dinner champagne reception, Gina. It'd just be rude not to go to town."

"Just as long as I don't have to carry you up the stairs later…."

Claire raised a teasing eyebrow, squeezing the older woman's slender waist to draw their bodies closer. "Really?"

Gina smiled warmly, accurately reading the nuance. "Exactly the point, my love. I want you to be up for more than just unconsciousness by the time we finally get to bed tonight."

The younger woman brushed her mouth softly across her lover's cheek. "I've never disappointed you, have I?"

"No…."

"And I don't intend to start now. But I also have every intention of enjoying myself in the meantime…."

"Meaning more champagne?"

Claire grinned and raised her flute in a toast. "Meaning more champagne."

Gina shook her head good-naturedly. "You're incorrigible."

"Oh, you love it."

She smiled brilliantly. "Luckily I do."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence then, each briefly alone with their respective thoughts and observations of the happily bustling space before Claire spoke again, her gaze focused across the breadth of the room as her eyes fell upon a petite figure, the woman's head thrown back in joyous laughter. "Your mother looks absolutely divine, by the way," she remarked to her partner, taking a large sip from her glass and leaning back against the bar. "You and Beth did sterling work convincing her to buy that dress."

Gina snorted in agreement and rolled her eyes. "It took some bloody convincing, believe me. She's got this thing about being the quote-unquote wrong side of sixty."

Claire released an incredulous breath. "You're kidding?"

"No. She has serious self-esteem issues beneath her veneer of perpetual confidence, my mother."

"Doesn't subscribe to the 'Physician, heal thyself' philosophy, then?"

"God, no. Too hard when you're inside the box though, to be fair."

The younger woman inclined her head in concession. "True enough."

They were quiet once more for a short moment before Gina tutted loudly, disparagingly as her eyes scanned the room and settled on the seated form of two figures at a far distance, their bodies in close proximity as the curvaceous woman leant in to address the broad-shouldered man. "I don't believe it," she breathed venomously as she shook her head. "Christ, that didn't take her long."

"Who?" Claire frowned, following her partner's gaze across the room.

"Baby cousin Louisa over there trying to stick her tongue into Boyd's ear."

"Oh, the melodrama," Claire replied wryly and nudged the older woman with her shoulder. "Just looks like they're having a conversation to me."

"She's practically sitting in his lap…."

"She is not."

"Honestly, she's never been any different…especially where older men are concerned."

Claire gave her a sideways glance, trying to gauge her sincerity. "Are you being serious?"

Gina's full mouth had narrowed to a hardened line. "Completely serious. How can you openly flirt like that when you know damn well the other person has come with someone else?"

"Well, first of all…flirtation under circumstances like these is ninety-nine percent affectation…."

"I'm not sure I agree with that, Claire. It's…."

"…and second of all….just look at him."

Gina scowled. "I _am_ bloody looking at him. He's absolutely loving it."

"I mean really look, Gina. He's obviously just trying to be polite…."

"He's not exactly making a huge effort to get away though, is he?"

Claire sighed softly at her partner's characteristic stubbornness. "But just look at his _gaze_, darling. He can't keep his eyes off your mother; hasn't taken his eyes off her all day, in fact."

Gina narrowed her eyes sceptically as she surveyed the object of their attention. "Do you think?"

"Oh God, yeah. He's not even being particularly subtle about it."

"Hm," the older woman murmured in concession as she watched Peter Boyd perform almost on cue, his eyes flickering across the room to settle briefly on the slender form of her mother before grudgingly returning his concentration towards the woman at his left. "Mum swears blind they're just friends…."

"Well, that might be the truth," Claire acknowledged, "but there's no denying the intention for more is there, at least on his part." She paused, silently debating the wisdom of the question that was forming in her throat. "Has there really been no-one since your father?"

Gina shrugged casually, though she felt a familiar shard of pain lance acutely across her chest. "She had a handful of dates when we were growing up; and I literally mean a handful. I think it took her a long time to come to terms with Dad's death."

"Bloody hell. Twenty years….?"

"I know. She effectively raised us by herself and worked her arse off on her career at the same time…."

"Amazing woman, your mother. I've always thought so."

Gina smiled proudly before continuing. "She's been alone for so long….and there's no-one who deserves some bloody happiness more than she does. It's about damn time."

"And you think Peter Boyd could be the one to give it to her?" Claire caught her partner's broadening impish grin and pulled a face. "Happiness, I mean."

Gina's eyes were shining mischievously. "No you didn't."

The younger woman gave a conciliatory shrug and smiled. "Well, it's part and parcel, isn't it? A healthy adult relationship…."

"Of course it is. I just don't think Mum would ever think he could see her like that."

Claire exhaled incredulously. "Not only _could_ he see her like that, darling, he absolutely _does_ see her like that. I know I'm not exactly great at reading members of the opposite sex…."

"Thank God for small mercies…."

"….but it's clear from a mile off how much he wants her."

"Yeah, well…you try telling her that, Claire."

Claire laughed and shook her head firmly. "No bloody chance. I'm not getting involved…and in all seriousness, Gina, neither should you."

The older woman frowned in irritation. "They need their heads knocking together."

"Be that as it may…they're adults, darling. They need to work it out for themselves."

Gina sighed heavily, the wisdom of her partner's words filtering slowly through her consciousness. "I know."

"So you promise to keep your nose out?"

Gina tutted mildly and nudged the younger woman's shoulder. "You're such a nag."

"It's my job."

"Being on my case every second of the day?"

"Keeping you out of trouble."

"Oh, blah blah blah. Fill my drink up, will you?"

Claire laughed loudly and acquiesced, Gina allowing her gaze to wander back across the room to where Boyd had clearly made his excuses and risen from his seat, his ruggedly handsome form meandering slowly towards the general direction of her mother. _Mess her about and I'll have your balls_, she promised him silently, the undeniably protective instinct rising hotly in her chest as she watched him touch the woman in question lightly on the waist and lean in to address her closely. _Oh God, you could be the best thing that's ever happened to her…or the absolute worst…and I can't for the life of me decide which… _With a sigh she returned her attention towards her partner, resisting any further speculation and forcing away her residual doubt as Claire began to speak once more.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer, Pairing, Rating & Spoilers**: See chapter 1.

**A/N**: My sincere apologies for the delay with this – having a seventeen-month-old who seems determined to catch every bug going takes up the vast majority of my time! I've also had a huge problem with an uncooperative muse; hoping I've got her back on the straight-and-narrow now! Anyways, hope you enjoy this update and thanks for continuing to read x

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><p>Grace sat back against the satin smoothness of her chair and took a contented sip from her wine glass, the hum of happy conversation throughout the bustling room cocooning her in warmth as she watched the many members of her extended family interact. It had been a flawless day to the present point, she mused with a smile; Beth was unapologetically radiant, the epitome of rapture, and the post-ceremony celebrations had afforded Grace the opportunity to reconnect with long-distant relatives and friends, the champagne freely flowing as they exchanged anecdotes from their richly divergent lives. They had proceeded to enjoy an extravagant wedding breakfast, the food delicate yet plentiful and she raised her glass to her lips once more as she watched various guests toy with the remainder of their dessert, clearly torn between the sensual desires of their bodies and the better judgement of their minds.<p>

The atmosphere was bountiful in joy, resplendent in goodwill and yet Grace was unable to prevent a tiny flicker of pain from barbing into her chest, her eyes unerringly drawn to the slightly nervous figure of her son several places down from her along the table. She smiled brightly as he looked up and caught her gaze, his dark eyes softening as he absorbed her reassurance and returned her smile, the expression causing her heart to lurch at his sudden, renewed resemblance to her late husband. _Oh, God. I'm not sure I'll be able to make it through this without…._

"You're making him sweat, Grace. Way to pile on the pressure."

She rolled her eyes towards the source of the amused baritone, his oblique fortitude instantly soothing her anxiety though she fixed him with an irritated frown. "Not helping, Boyd."

He grinned widely and folded his arms across his chest as he sat back and regarded her. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Of course it'll be fine…."

"So what are you worrying about, then?"

Grace held his gaze for a brief moment before sighing shakily and glancing back towards her son. "I suppose," she ventured haltingly, trying desperately to maintain an even tone, "that I'll somehow show him up, that I'll…."

"Well, it's your prerogative as his mother, isn't it?"

She gave a wry smile, his light-hearted approach to her quandary comforting her anew and she unconsciously angled her body towards his, crossing one slender leg over the other. "Stop trying to make me feel better."

Boyd smiled and raised a palm, his shoulder connecting lightly with hers, her sudden proximity a pleasant surprise. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good."

They fell into a momentary silence before Boyd drew a breath to speak once more, glancing sideways and absorbing the careful constraints of her mask, the perpetual tension wound into the lines of her body. "Seriously….what he's doing….It's a courageous thing really."

A ghost of a smile flickered across her features. "He was quite insistent. None of it came from Beth at all."

"It makes sense that he'd want to do it."

"I know. I just wish he didn't have to." She swallowed hard, embarrassment coursing the lengths of her nerves as she heard her voice catch, her throat constricting painfully. "Sorry."

He frowned as he looked at her and blew out a forceful breath. "For what?"

"Being maudlin. It's not exactly in-keeping with the rest of the day, is it?"

"Grace," he intoned wearily, incredulous at her self-directed criticism. "If you didn't miss him today of all days…you'd need your fucking head testing."

She chuckled softly despite herself, his bluntness a balm to her heart. "Thank you."

"I mean it. Even two decades down the line it's one of those post-traumatic grief things, or some such bollocks…."

"Is that the technical term for it?"

He grunted loudly and studiously ignored her attempt at levity. "So cut yourself some slack. No-one's going to judge you if you can't quite hold it together…alright?" _Least of all me…._

She took a deep, centring breath, allowing the air to circulate through her body before replying quietly, "Alright."

"Good. Now sit there and keep quiet, will you? Looks like he's about ready…."

As if on cue she watched Nick rise confidently from his seat, her pulse quickening of its own accord despite her firm resolution to the contrary as he cleared his throat and began to speak. _Christ, it should be Jack_, she thought morosely though she forced herself to laugh at the jovial opening address, her heart twisting as conflicting emotions battled forcibly for supremacy in her soul. _ He should have been here to walk her down the aisle, to stand up now and wax lyrical about how beautiful she looks, about how lucky we are, about…._She gasped softly, the rapidly spiralling thoughts halting abruptly as she felt Boyd unexpectedly take her hand, his thumb tracing a soothing path across her knuckles, his skin warm and reassuring against hers. She glanced sideways towards him in surprise, noting the gaze that was locked firmly on her son, and she squeezed his fingers gently in gratitude, warmth flooding through her chest as she felt him respond in kind. _Oh God, and now I feel like I'm betraying his memory,_ she mused guiltily, pleasure arcing along her synapses as Boyd continued to gently caress her hand, Nick's carefully practised words floating in a haze above her as she lost herself momentarily in the unfamiliar sensations, self-recrimination following inevitably in their wake. _Get a grip_, she told herself curtly, the raucous laughter reverberating suddenly around the room jolting her sharply from her absorption. _He's just being a good friend, nothing more…and besides I should be focussing on my family, on the painfully notable absence of my husband; how could I not? _She shook her head to clear her mind, ignoring the siren call of her deepening feelings for the man to her left and re-focusing determinedly on the confident, witty tone of her middle child.

* * *

><p>Boyd shook his head firmly and raised a defensive palm, grinning across the room at the curvaceous young woman who had been signalling her desire to dance with him for more than five minutes, his consistent refusal apparently no deterrent as she gave an exaggerated wink before turning back towards her friends. <em>Jesus Christ, this could be a long night,<em> he thought darkly. _Offers of dancing and undoubtedly more from gorgeous thirty-something girls…and I'm going to turn each and every one of them down on the off-chance that, what? That Grace will suddenly realise I haven't been able to stop staring at her? What the fuck is wrong with me? _He heaved a sigh and took a large pull from his glass, his gaze inexorably drawn towards the object of his thoughts as she moved rhythmically about the dance floor, her head thrown back in laughter as her elder daughter encircled her waist. _Ten years_, he mused incredulously as his eyes traversed the slender curves of Grace's body, exquisitely flattered by her dress. _It's taken me ten years to work out that I find her attractive. Ten years. I can normally tell in the first ten seconds with a woman._ He exhaled forcefully and ran a hand roughly through his hair. _But with Grace it's always been different, always so fucking complicated…and apparently I've been pathetically, woefully slow on the uptake. God, have I left it too late? Is this 'just good friends' crap totally irreversible? A decade after meeting the woman and I finally work out what I want….She'd be a damn fool to even entertain the notion after all these years, after all the things I've done to her…and yet something tells me if I don't at least give it a try, at least give her the opportunity to shoot me down in flames….Fuck it. I don't want to mess around anymore._

He felt his features crease with a wry smile at the sudden change in tempo of the music, the band's lead vocalist making a clichéd announcement about the sultry anticipation in the air, the various couples on the dance floor gravitating unerringly towards each other as the musicians set a markedly more sedate pace. Boyd observed as Grace, her skin beautifully flushed, accepted an invitation from the groom's father, the man's palm slipping easily about her waist and enclosing her hand in the other, their bodies a chaste, respectful distance apart. He supressed a sigh as he watched them begin to move, the older man sliding her fluidly around the floor as they simultaneously engaged in apparently witty conversation. _That dress,_ he mused hotly as the couple moved so her back was towards him, his eyes tracing the sumptuous curves of her waist and hips, at once grateful for the semi-darkness as he felt his blood begin to stir. _Jesus Christ. How could she possibly think that she doesn't look…? That she's not easily the most beautiful woman in the room? And how the fuck has it taken me so bloody long to realise it? I've been so blind, so completely fucking blind…._

He was on his feet before being consciously aware of it, his body moving instinctively towards her even as his heart began to thump against his ribcage, studiously ignoring her querying raised eyebrow as he approached.

"Can I interrupt?" he asked gruffly, willing away a powerful urge to forcibly disentangle her from the other man's arms before waiting for a response.

"Be my guest." Michael shrugged good-naturedly and released his gentle hold on Grace, taking a small step backwards. "If I don't dance with my wife at least once tonight anyway she'll absolutely bloody kill me."

Boyd grinned widely as the other man moved away, amusement flooding through his chest as he watched Grace slowly shake her head. "What?"

"Nothing." The psychologist held up her hands in a gesture of placation, her sapphire eyes shining. "I just didn't think you danced, that's all."

He grunted and stepped towards her, his palm moulding to the curve of her waist of its own accord, her skin pleasantly warm through the rich material of her dress. "I'm making an exception."

She gave a lop-sided smile and slid her fingers into his proffered hand, her pulse quickening at the intimacy of the connection as he encouraged her body towards his. "Any particular reason?"

"No," he replied smoothly, beginning to rock her gently to the rhythmically sensual beat, the heady scent of her perfume rising from her throat and threading seductively through his senses. "Does there have to be?"

"I suppose not."

"So keep your mouth shut, then, and let me sweep you off your feet."

She chuckled softly. "Don't set yourself up for a fall, Boyd."

"I can dance. Rather well, as it happens." He smirked. "I just normally choose not to."

"So, what's this, then? Too much champagne?"

He tutted and shook his head. "Stop looking for a reason."

"I wouldn't be if it was anybody other than you. Most people accept the social convention of dancing at weddings without even thinking about it."

"Well, how do you know I haven't? I'm bloody dancing, aren't I?"

Grace raised her eyebrows. "You? Adhere to expected codes of behaviour?"

"I can tow the line with the best of them, Grace."

"Is that right?"

"Oh, yeah. That's why I had a meteoric rise through the ranks of the Met."

She laughed at the sarcasm which was infused thickly into his voice. "That's just the point; you probably could have done…."

"If I'd kept my damned mouth shut, you mean?"

"If you'd been prepared to compromise yourself…."

He snorted contemptuously. "Right, Grace. Because my integrity has always got me so very far in life."

"Don't be so quick to dismiss it. It's one of your redeeming features…."

"One of my few?"

She gave a crooked smile. "Did I say that?"

"Did you have to?"

"Hm. I forgot your finely-honed mind-reading skills." Her smile broadened before her forehead creased into a frown. "How did we get on to this, anyway? I thought we were talking about your uncharacteristic attempts at dancing?"

Boyd grinned. "'Attempts'?"

She gave an amused shrug, her sapphire eyes shining teasingly. "If the shoe fits."

"Christ, you know how to hit me where it hurts, Grace."

She laughed enthusiastically, her heart swelling with happiness at their well-established banter as he squeezed her closer, their bodies swaying slowly to the luxurious silk of the music, each content to immerse themselves therein for the briefest of moments before Boyd spoke once more.

"You okay?" he asked softly, watching a veritable myriad of emotion flicker instantaneously across her delicate features.

"Yeah," she replied eventually, a small smile settling on her lips as she looked up at him. "Yeah, I am."

"Overwhelmed?"

Grace inclined her head in accession, quietly impressed by his perception. "A bit. I'm just so glad she's had a good day…."

"From the looks of her I'd say 'good' was something of an understatement, wouldn't you?" He narrowed his eyes. "But that wasn't really what I was getting at. As you damn well know."

Her smile broadened though her eyes were wide with mock innocence. "Do I?"

"Yes. Don't be a pain in the arse."

She laughed. "Don't mind me if I invoke the old adage regarding pots and kettles, then."

He gave a theatrical sigh and rolled his eyes. "Fine."

Grace squeezed his hand reassuringly. "You're very sweet…."

"I am not. That's a scandalous accusation."

"…but I really am fine. I mean…I'm an emotional mess but otherwise…."

Boyd snorted contemptuously. "So in the language of psychology 'fine' equals 'mess', does it? Give me strength."

"I just mean that it's been a bittersweet day, that's all. I suppose I couldn't really have expected anything different."

"Hm. Do I need to repeat myself about getting your head tested?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. I knew I'd miss Jack today."

"There you go, then."

"But I also didn't think that I'd…." She broke off abruptly, suddenly aware that the words were leaving her lips somewhat uncontrollably, her stomach constricting painfully with the realisation. _That I'd, what? That I'd spend the whole day with half an eye on you, quietly agonising over who you were talking to? That how I feel about you would hit me like a sledgehammer, even though I've never felt Jack's loss so keenly? God, I can't keep doing this to myself. It's absolute torture that you don't feel the same way, that you came along today to do me a favour and nothing more…._She shook her head resolutely at the questioning expression flickering through his eyes. "Forget it."

He looked at her, absorbing the acute tension in her frame, the embarrassment flashing briefly across her expression. "Whatever you think," he intoned slowly, though frustration tore agonisingly at his stomach. _Was she going to say what I think she was…?_

"It's not important."

"Alright."

They lapsed into an astringent silence, Boyd biting back an irritated sigh as she refused to meet his gaze, his mind bitterly incredulous at their innate, ingrained ability to undermine, to instinctively withdraw from the precipice. _For fuck's sake, we're meant to be adults here….Why can't we just say what we…? _Exhaling vigorously he made a sudden decision, releasing her abruptly from his hold before reaching to take her hand.

"Come with me," he intoned softly, watching confusion settle across her forehead, her brow furrowing as she looked at him in question.

"What?"

"Just…come with me, will you?"

Without waiting for an answer, he pulled at her hand to encourage her movement in his wake, stopping only briefly to collect their respective jackets before leading her out into the crisp winter night, his heart pummelling his ribcage in agonisingly painful expectation.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer, Pairing, Rating & Spoilers**: See chapter 1.

**A/N**: Thanks to you all for your lovely comments and for your endless patience with me – hope you enjoy this update! x

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><p>Grace drew a sharp breath, the frostbitten air rushing painfully into her lungs as Boyd led her quickly along the softly lit path and towards the shadowy seclusion of a corner courtyard, deliberately ignoring the surprised glances of their fellow guests as they stood in the clear stillness of the indigo night. He released his grip on her hand as they reached his intended destination and she pulled her fitted jacket closer about her slender frame, folding her arms defensively across her chest, her eyes following his movements as he settled his back against an opposite wall.<p>

Grace inhaled slowly, willing calm to her adrenaline-infused bloodstream before breaking the elongating silence that had begun to stretch tensely between them. "What are we doing out here?" she asked quietly, catching his snort of incredulity despite his face being partly obscured in penumbra.

"Are you being serious?"

"You drag me outside into the freezing cold; am I not supposed to ask why?"

He blew out a forceful plume of white breath and ran a hand irritably through his hair. "For God's sake, Grace…."

"No, I mean it. One minute we're dancing and the next you're charging through the room like the devil's on your back, and I'm getting dragged along with you."

He held her gaze for a long moment before sighing anew, his broad chest rising and falling, and he allowed the sudden silence between them to extend almost to breaking point before replying slowly, "Why did you ask me along today?"

Grace released a shaky breath though she forced herself to maintain eye contact, the unreadable expression in the depths of his obsidian orbs causing an unsettling sensation to ripple through her stomach. "I told you, Boyd. My kids were on my back about me coming by myself and I…."

"And that's the extent of it, is it?"

"You needn't have agreed if you thought you'd be uncomfortable." She frowned, an unpleasant thought snaking into her consciousness. "Has someone said something to you?"

"About what?"

"About you and me." She shrugged lightly, her tone deliberately neutral. "Made some kind of insinuation or…?"

He gave another sceptical grunt. "You really think that would have been a problem?"

"I don't know, Boyd."

"Oh come on, Grace; it wouldn't have been the first time if they did, would it? It's a safe bet that people have been making assumptions about us for years."

"Not members of my family…."

"No?"

She raised an eyebrow, her voice firm. "No."

"Not to your face, at least."

Grace shook her head, rubbing her arms in an attempt to restore the circulation that had been savagely reduced by the impeding cold. "You're still being deliberately evasive about what we're doing out here…."

"That's unfair," he interrupted brusquely. "Especially when you're being equally evasive in answering my question."

"Am I?"

"All this bullshit about your kids forcing your hand…."

"It's true, Boyd. I'd have been more than happy to be here by myself today."

He threw up his hands in frustration, an irresistible pull of antagonism burning a hole in his gut. "So why didn't you tell them to piss off, then? For God's sake, Grace, they're bloody adults, aren't they?"

She frowned, the ire in his tone concerning her. "Where's all this coming from?"

"Why does it have to be coming from anywhere?"

"Because these things usually do, speaking from my field of expertise…."

He groaned loudly, instantly silencing her. "Don't start with all that. Please."

"Oh, I won't. Far be it from me to bring a sense of rationality to the increasingly warped thread of this conversation."

"It was a reasonable question, Grace. I've spent the day playing the part of Christ knows what and I…."

"You're here as my _friend_, Boyd. There's nothing difficult or complicated about that, whatever anybody else thinks or doesn't." She barked a short, humourless laugh, willing away the constriction tearing at her throat. "I mean, come on. We drew those lines in the sand years ago, didn't we?"

He looked at her intensely for a long moment, the tension electrifying in the air between them, his eyes searching hers for a glimmer of subtext before he exhaled emphatically, an ugly sense of bitter disappointment threatening to crush his chest. "There's nothing more to be said then, is there?"

"I don't know what more you want from me."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." He pushed away from the wall and began to pace agitatedly before her, his body moving alternately between amber light and charcoal shadow, his breath coming in sharp bursts as he fought fiercely against his mounting exasperation.

She watched him for several seconds before blinking calmly, her well-established defences settling back into place as she deliberately focussed on the steadying rhythms of her breathing. "I'm going back inside," she told him quietly. "Come back in and join me when you've calmed down, alright?"

He was stonily silent, continuing to stride before her, and after several moments of stalemate Grace made a gesture of surrender and turned away, his lack of response cutting ribbons across her heart, her throat constricting as she struggled to banish her rapidly-forming tears. _God, and I really thought….that he might actually be about to….How much more bloody deluded could I have been…?_

She gasped in shock as he moved swiftly towards her and caught her about the waist, preventing her further translation as he breathed her name against her ear, his voice rough, thick with potency. "Grace…."

She turned her head to look at him, his proximity startling her despite the knowledge of his body flush against hers, the feel of his palm about her curves, and she was unable to prevent herself from licking her lips, her mouth suddenly devoid of moisture. "What?"

"Stay," he murmured huskily, his hand traversing the lines of her waist and hip of its own accord, his eyes boring intently into hers as he encouraged her back towards the intricate shadows of their previous location. "Let's start this again. Please."

Grace gave a minute shake of her head, even as she allowed herself to be led once more. "We're just going round in circles, Boyd…."

"It's an art form. One we've got down pat by now."

"So what do you think starting again would possible achieve, then?"

He released his hold on her and rubbed a hand roughly across his eyes before turning back towards her, reigning in a powerful urge to cup her delicate face between his palms, to physically demonstrate the extent of his sincerity. "You want to know why I dragged you out here, Grace? Why I'm starting to seriously doubt my own sanity when it's got to be pushing minus five tonight?"

She shrugged, wrapping her hands about her ribcage protectively, a mixture of dread and anticipation churning in her stomach. "Enlighten me."

Boyd took a small step once more towards her. "Would you believe me if I told you I'm beginning to question the way I've approached…certain aspects of my life over the past ten years?"

"Yes," she replied without hesitation, watching the barely concealed emotion ripple across his rugged features. "Though I'd wonder why it's occurred to you today, of all days."

"An odd time for an epiphany, you mean?"

"Well, not necessarily, I suppose. You're out of your normal routine, focussing on something else….Sometimes that frees up your subconscious to make connections it might not have done otherwise."

He inclined his head, his dark eyes twinkling in the soft light. "That actually kind of makes sense. Despite sounding like complete and utter bollocks."

Grace gave a sad shake of her head, ignoring his attempts at levity. "You're deflecting again," she sighed quietly. "This perpetual loop, Boyd, it's…."

"Not easy to break," he finished, sobering instantly beneath the weight of her words. "I know."

"I was going to say it's completely dysfunctional. For God's sake, we've known each other for almost a decade…."

"And yet we still can't quite bring ourselves to be honest, can we?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying you're ready to be?"

"Are you?" he challenged evenly.

She blinked into the sudden silence, raising her chin fearlessly to hold his gaze, feeling him take another tiny step towards her as the seconds ticked by almost interminably. "Why did you bring me out here, Boyd?"

"Why do you think?"

She groaned and squeezed her eyes briefly closed with frustration, astonishment rippling through her as she felt his fingers lightly brush her cheek, tracing the shell of her ear before coming to rest along her jawline, his thumb caressing tender lines across her upper vermilion. "Boyd?" she prompted throatily, her eyes flickering open to catch the infinitesimal dilation of his pupils, the slightly ragged edge to his breathing.

"Because…when we were dancing I wanted to kiss you," he replied huskily, grinning wolfishly as another thought occurred immediately to him. "Fuck it. I've been wanting to kiss you all bloody day."

Grace released her breath in a sudden rush, shock pervading every synapse of her mind as she struggled to process his admission. "You…._What?_"

His smile widened playfully. "And I didn't think you'd have appreciated me doing it in front of your children. Didn't think they'd have appreciated it either."

She shook her head slowly, thoroughly searching his eyes for any hint of insincerity, her pulse soaring away from her control as she found none. "Are you being serious?" she was unable to prevent herself from asking.

Boyd frowned darkly, irritation prickling at the edges of his consciousness at the question, the self-doubt lacing her tone. "Do I not look as if I'm being serious?"

"I don't…."

"For God's sake, Grace; have you not used a mirror today?"

She grimaced instantly, discomfited by the recent memories of her reflected appearance. "I glanced at myself once or twice this morning, yes."

"And what did you see? Tell me honestly."

"Honestly?" Grace barked a short laugh, aware of the bitter undertone but unable to fully disguise it. "A woman of late middle-age wearing a dress that's about thirty years too young for her and arguably a size too small. A woman who's far too easily influenced by her fashion-conscious daughters and who should have relied more on her better judgement than on their misguided advice."

Boyd exhaled incredulously and raised his eyebrows. "Jesus Christ….what kind of fucking distorted mirrors do you _have_ in your house?"

She sighed. "I don't want to have a conversation about perception, Boyd. I'm well aware of my own limitations."

"Are you? Because I just don't see how someone of your superior intellect could view herself in such grossly twisted terms."

"It's got nothing to do with intellect…."

"Apparently not." He sighed and raised his other hand to gently mirror his first, her face held delicately between his palms. "We're getting off topic again."

"You don't need to feel obligated, Boyd. When I asked you here today it wasn't because I…."

"Oh, keep your self-indulgent insecurities to yourself and credit me with my own bloody opinion, will you?" He leant closer towards her, feeling a tiny shiver run through her body, a responding sensation cascading through his veins. "Listen to me very carefully, Grace, because I may never have the balls to say this to you again: the dress is perfect and you look absolutely stunning…."

"Don't," she intoned firmly, her well-practiced defences rising of their own accord. "I don't want you of all people to lie to me…."

"Fucking beautiful. And for all I know you've looked fucking beautiful every day for the past ten years but I've been too much of an insensitive, introspective prick to notice."

"Boyd…."

"Shut up, Grace; do you want me to kiss you or not?"

She smiled brilliantly in response, her features slackening with a tangible sense of relief as he closed the final inches between them, his lips caressing hers with the gentlest of touches, the soft hair of his beard warmly intimate against her skin. He pulled back slightly to look at her, his dark eyes boring intently into her sapphire ones before kissing her anew, and she gasped breathlessly, overwhelmed by the sensation of his mouth, by the feel of his hands, by the undeniable identity of the man who was now easing her back towards the courtyard wall. She was unable to suppress a pleasured moan as he slipped his tongue easily between her lips, deepening the kiss as his hands slid to her shoulders and then to her waist. He kissed her expertly, thoroughly, gratification flooding her as she felt him moan hotly against her mouth, his body pressed firmly to hers as his dextrous tongue repeatedly sought hers with an increasing fervour.

"Boyd…." she ground out huskily as his mouth moved to her neck, the friction of his beard heightening the spiralling arousal arcing through her blood, the thundering of her heart against her ribcage. "Not a good idea…."

"Bollocks," he replied intensely, grinning at her reactive shudder as his tongue located a sensitive spot beneath her jawline. "Shit; I knew once I opened the floodgates I wouldn't be able to control myself…."

"I'm serious," she managed breathlessly, even as the words melted seamlessly into another guttural moan, unconsciously angling her head to allow him closer access to the tender skin of her throat.

"Let me take you to bed," he murmured, his lips moving back towards hers for a further searing kiss, his fingers sliding across her ribcage to brush gently against her breast.

With a heavy sigh of regret Grace pulled reluctantly away, her hands flush to his chest as she stretched up to kiss him softly, quietly thrilled by the uneven edge to his breathing, the groan of frustration rising from the depths of his bones. "I can't," she said eventually. "It's completely inappropriate."

Boyd took a small step backwards in order to gesture dismissively, dragging the air into his lungs as he fought for equilibrium. "I know you have to do the hostess thing for a while longer…."

"It's my daughter's wedding day, Boyd."

Realisation settled across his shoulders as he caught the hesitancy in her tone. "Oh, God; you're worried about stealing her thunder."

She gave a quiet sigh of admission. "Can you imagine the reaction if….?"

"Well, I wasn't talking about doing it on the dance floor, Grace."

"It doesn't matter," she said firmly, ignoring the teasing lilt to his voice, the sudden images flashing behind her eyes. "By the morning everyone would know and I wouldn't want that to overshadow the memories of the day for Beth."

"Look," he replied, moving back towards her and placing his hands tenderly atop her shoulders. "I doubt anyone would even notice…."

"That's not…."

"And even if they did it's none of their damned business. Your children would more than likely be _happy_ for you, Grace, for God's sake."

The psychologist inclined her head thoughtfully, allowing his words to turn over in her mind. "That's a fair point."

"So I'm going to do the rounds and make my excuses. You do whatever you need to do and if you want to join me later…."

She frowned at the unspoken completion to his sentence, a fresh sense of anxiety gnawing at her stomach. "It's been a long time for me, Peter. I'm not sure I…."

"Grace," he intoned softly, reaching forward to brush his lips briefly across hers. "Just come and join me if you want to. No expectations or presumptions; alright?"

She nodded wordlessly as he squeezed her hands reassuringly and pulled away, her breath cascading rapidly from her lungs as she watched him walk back towards the hotel. _Oh, my God_, she mused after several seconds had passed, her attempts to regain control of her erratic heartbeat failing miserably in the sudden silence. _What on earth was that? _She took a shuddering breath, unable to fully comprehend the events of the previous minutes, the imprint of his mouth still across her lips, the scent of his cologne lingering in her nostrils. _Ten bloody years and this is when we finally choose to admit how we feel? Christ, and I'm not sure we even did that…._She crumpled back against cold brick of the wall and closed her eyes, at once bombarded by an array of memories, arousal reigniting fiercely in her blood. _I can't deal with this right now,_ she thought determinedly after several indulgent moments remembering the sensation of his tongue stroking hotly along hers, the feel of his lips against her neck. _I need to go back inside and find Beth…and then see how I feel in the next few hours before I make any kind of a decision…._She was unable to prevent a slow smile into the darkness at the inevitably of her proceeding thought. _God; denial, thy name is Grace. Of course I'm going to go to him. I don't think I've ever known anything with such absolute certainty and consequences, be damned. _With a broadening of her smile and a radiant joy exploding through her heart, Grace pushed herself away from the wall and began the short walk towards the twinkling warmth of the ornate building.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer, Pairing, Rating & Spoilers**: See chapter 1.

**A/N**: My sincere apologies for the delay with this - RL has been kicking me around a bit lately so I've had other things to occupy my time and energy. Plus this chapter has been a huge struggle, for some reason – I'm still far from happy with it but frankly I'm not sure what else I can do! Anyways, if anyone is still interested, here goes – and many, many thanks if you are! :)

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><p>Grace stepped shakily down the ornate hotel corridor, the blood pounding against her temples intensifying the sensation of light-headedness as she neared her highly anticipated destination. She had spent the previous two hours forcing a bright smile as she thanked Beth's guests for coming, the effort of trying to focus on each conversation monumental as she found her mind continually drifting towards Peter Boyd. Their encounter in the courtyard had shocked and pleased her to the very core of her bones, his uncharacteristic admission and subsequent action thrilling and unnerving her, and despite her efforts to the contrary she found she was unable to stop replaying the sequence ad infinitum in her mind. She had wrestled intensely with the concept of joining him at present, anxiety rippling caustically through her stomach as she found herself entering the lift and selecting his floor before her mind could fully register her actions; now as she walked towards his door she wondered forebodingly if she was about to make a colossal mistake. <em>Oh God<em>, she thought even as she raised her hand to tap at the oak. _Well_, _I suppose there's no fool like an old fool…._

Boyd was smirking as he opened the door, the weight of his body leaning against the wooden frame as he appraised her. "I thought you were going to leave me high and dry," he teased, his grin broadening at her reactive eye roll.

"I hope you've got the kettle on," she replied obliquely, amazed by the easy confidence threading through her words, a sharp contrast to the nervousness coiling tightly in her stomach.

He laughed and pulled the door open wide, inclining his head to encourage her entry before retreating back towards the mahogany desk and retrieving the kettle, holding it up to her questioningly. "Sure you don't want anything stronger?"

Grace shook her head as she moved into the room, taking a seat on the edge of the over-sized bed and leaning back slightly on her palms as she watched him, her eyebrows rising reflexively as he handed her the delicate cup moments later, his choice of beverage pleasantly surprising her. "I didn't think camomile was even on your radar, Boyd," she quipped lightly, bringing the cup to her lips and inhaling the characteristically warming aroma with gratitude.

He sighed theatrically and folded his arms. "I had the office next to yours for ten years, Grace…."

"Well, that's not quite true. There was that odd brief period where I was office-less, remember?"

"…and in all that time I can count on one hand the number of times you made a normal cup of tea."

Grace reigned in a grin, deeply thankful for the deflective direction of their conversation, a confusing mêlée of relief and disappointment swirling oppressively in her chest. "What does 'normal' mean?"

"You know exactly what it means. Not bloody camomile, peppermint or any of that other hippy crap."

"Hm. Did you never wonder about the cause-and-effect paradigm of my Zen-like calm over the years?"

He laughed loudly, derisively, biting back his dismay at their studious evasion. "So drinking a few cups of stewed nettle leaves would've made my anger management therapist redundant, would it?"

The psychologist shook her head in mock disapproval and took a sip from her cup. "Well…I suppose we'll never know now, will we?"

"Believe me, drinking that shit would only have served to exacerbate…."

"That's flawed science, Boyd. You can't do an experiment in retrospect."

He took a breath to reply, absorbing the sparkling lightness in her sapphire eyes, the teasing lilt to her voice. "Piss off, Grace, will you?" he managed gruffly several seconds later, fighting a smile at her responding laughter and moving to pour himself a generous tumbler of whiskey before sinking down onto the bed beside her.

"So, how did the rest of the evening go?" he asked after several moments had passed in an increasingly tense silence, forcing himself to ignore the intoxicating sensation of her thigh pressed flush against his, the reason for her presence in his room hanging unspoken between them like a tangible physical entity.

Grace nodded and sipped slowly from her tea. "It was fine."

"No drunken brawls or people throwing up in the corner?"

She laughed. "No. All very civilised and amiable."

He quirked an eyebrow at her tone and turned his head to look at her. "Boring?"

"Did I say that?"

"You didn't have to," he replied in amusement, tutting loudly in mock disapproval. "I always knew you were really a thrill-seeker."

Grace rolled her eyes and groaned, deftly evading his statement. "It all went off without a hitch, thank God. Beth and Mike had a wonderful day and…."

"Now you're knackered and down several thousand pounds?"

She smiled, thinking fondly of her daughter. "Something like that."

He shook his head teasingly. "You're such a bloody push-over."

"I am," she agreed readily, though she nudged him gently in reproach, his physical proximity both exciting and terrifying her in equal measure.

They lapsed into a quietly feigned tranquillity then, each sipping from their respective drinks and trying to ignore the thundering of hearts against ribcages, the pounding of electrified blood through veins. Boyd was eventually the first to break the stalemate, clearing his throat roughly into the silence, the jovial atmosphere of the previous few minutes crumbling instantly beneath the iron grip of rigid anticipation.

"Grace…," he breathed softly, intensely, frustration tearing through him as he allowed her name to fade fruitlessly into the stillness.

"I know," she replied hastily, the words leaving her throat in a sudden rush of anxiety. "You're going to say we should stop stalling…."

He laughed huskily, draining his glass before placing it onto the floor beside him. "Nothing of the sort."

"Oh, come on," she scoffed incredulously, following his example of relinquishing her cup to the carpet. "You asked me to join you when I…."

"Right. But if you recall I also said that there weren't any expectations or presumptions." He looked at her intently, sincerity flickering across the surface of his eyes. "There still aren't."

She blinked in disbelief. "So you'd be okay, would you, if we were to sit here talking for the rest of the night?"

He grinned easily and leant back against his palms. "Absolutely."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Just as long as you're not expecting anything too deep and meaningful, given that it's well past midnight and I'm officially an old man."

She shrugged, a crooked smile flickering across her features. "You know me."

"Oh, God, I do. Am I going to need to make coffee?"

"It's a distinct possibility."

He pulled a face and groaned theatrically. "You know, sensitivity be damned. I can't help thinking things would be a lot simpler if we just succumbed to the inevitable and stopped all this pissing about."

"Well, that's just the point, isn't it?" she replied icily, her tone abruptly sobering in contrast to his buoyancy. "We've had more than ten years to do that."

"And, what?"

Grace shrugged, an attempt at levity despite the lead weight settling acutely across her chest. "Just that if things were going to go that way, surely they would have done so by now, that's all."

"You don't think circumstance has any part to play, then?"

"I just…."

"For God's sake, Grace, it would hardly have been practical when we were working together, would it? Not to mention all the other obstacles we seem to have been experts at constructing for ourselves over the years."

The psychologist raised a surprised eyebrow. "That's very self-aware."

"For someone like me, you mean?"

She sighed. "You've got to admit it makes a certain amount of sense, Boyd. Sometimes you miss the window of opportunity and you…."

"Whatever," he dismissed gruffly, his hand slicing cleanly through the air in emphasis.

"I'm serious," she reiterated firmly. "We've been friends for a long time."

"So it was a slow-burn thing. So, what?"

"And have you never asked yourself why? Why we couldn't have found a way to make it work before now?"

"This is me you're talking to, Grace. _Me_, for fuck's sake."

"Ah; so that introspective comment you made before was pure aberration, is that it?"

"No, I…." He broke off abruptly and ran a hand roughly through his hair. "This is getting us bloody nowhere."

"And your solution would be, what?"

He looked at her irately. "You know exactly what."

She sighed. "Sex as a tool for problem-solving, Boyd…."

"Oh, and why the hell not?"

"Because….," she faltered, suddenly uncomfortable beneath the aggravated scrutiny of his gaze.

"Because, what?"

"Because it's…." She snatched a quick, painful breath, her voice rising in volume when she spoke again, her heart twisting as the words tumbled uncontrollably from her lips. "Because it's always been so bloody _complicated_! Because I'm…I'm not sure I'm ready to go there, okay?"

He exhaled derisively. "Oh, Grace, grow up, would you, for fuck's sake?"

"There's too much water under the bridge, Boyd," she continued bullishly, studiously ignoring both the sting of his barb and her own incredulity at the spiralling disintegration of their conversation. "Too much history. I think we've passed the point where we could have moved this forward and I…."

"Why are you sabotaging this?" he asked her sharply, rising abruptly to his feet and beginning to pace, suddenly needing a physical outlet for his mounting irritation. "What the fuck do you think all that before was if it wasn't…?"

"What? Your half-drunken attempt at seduction?" she spat harshly, the words leaving her mouth despite her mind's determined attempts to block them. "Please."

"Oh, give me a fucking break!" he intoned exasperatedly, a disbelieving fury burning an acid hole in his gut as he blew out his breath. "Why do you always have to analyse everything to within an inch of its life?"

"I don't. I'm just trying to provide a bit of perspective, that's all."

"Well, it's warped, Grace, alright? Completely and totally warped."

"One of us has to be the grown-up here. What would you rather I do?" she bit back, catching his expression and raising a quick palm to stem his response, his dark eyes glinting dangerously as he took a step back towards her. "Don't go there."

He grinned wolfishly, his frustrated energy converging acutely. "Are you actually going to make me say it again?"

"No," she said firmly despite the prickle of electricity tracking the length of her spine. "_No_, Boyd…."

"Just get into bed, Grace, will you? We can hold the damned post-match analysis in the morning."

She laughed self-righteously. "That's it, then, is it? You snap your fingers and I'm just supposed to…?"

"Listen," he interrupted brusquely. "It comes down to this…."

"Boyd…."

"Do you want me, Grace?"

She closed her eyes briefly, unable to bear the scrutiny of his question, a river of emotion cascading hotly through her nerves at the sudden thickness coating his voice, the husky edge to his tone, and when she could bring herself to open them anew he was standing directly before her, his hand reaching down to take hers and pull her gently to her feet.

"Do you want me?" he repeated softly, his free hand rising to tenderly caress her cheek, his fingers dancing across the planes of her skin, his obsidian eyes burning furiously into hers.

Grace swallowed hard, trying to force away the anguished constriction in her throat. "It's not as…."

"It _is_ as simple as that. Stop trying to make it so complicated."

"It's never going to be straightforward, Boyd…and you pretending that it is, is at best optimistic and at worst…."

He silenced her abruptly, closing the gap between them and kissing her fiercely, ten years of stoic denial, of bitter repression flowing freely from his body and into hers. The action was so utterly organic, so undeniably natural that he was at once incredulous at the futility of their wasted time, the senselessness of their missed opportunities, and he tightened his grip on her reflexively, determined not to repeat his mistakes of the past. She sighed softly, almost a sob, and Boyd seized the chance to further deepen the kiss, his tongue caressing hers with an artful dexterity as he used his superior size to force her gently back onto the bed. She was glorious, he mused as he continued to worship her mouth; soft feminine curves enticingly pliable beneath the heavy silk of her dress, smooth velvet skin intimately warm against his palm, and he had to wrestle every instinct not to howl in frustration when she pulled momentarily, abruptly away.

Grace looked at him, absorbing the heavy dilation of his pupils, the ragged timbre of his breathing, and she felt her heart quadruple its rhythm in her chest, butterflies amplifying painfully in her stomach. "Don't you think we should…?" she began quietly.

"No," he replied forcefully, stretching forwards to kiss her anew, trying and failing to supress a grin at the automatic enthusiasm of her response. "No bloody talking."

She placed a calming hand against his chest and kissed him gently, an attempt to quell the fire. "I don't want this to be some…casual thing, Boyd."

He sighed shakily, his hand sliding suggestively towards the inviting curve of her generous breast. "Do you really want to have this discussion now?"

"When else?"

"In the bloody morning. What are you trying to do to me, woman?"

"I know you, Boyd. And I have absolutely no intention of being just another notch on your bedpost, alright?"

"Oh, come _on_; if all I'd wanted was a quick shag, I could've had my bloody pick today, believe me."

She raised an eyebrow. "So says Mister Modest."

"It's true," he assured her confidently with a dismissive wave of his hand, his tone softening as he absorbed the flicker of hurt she was hurriedly trying to blink away, his fingers reaching out to brush hers. "It could never just be that, Grace."

"No?" She looked at him squarely, trying desperately to find the expected note of flippancy in his statement, a lack of sincerity simmering beneath the surface of his eyes, and in finding neither she felt her heart soar beyond her control.

"Of course not," he replied gently, leaning forward to brush a brief kiss across the planes of her mouth. "It's been a decade getting to this point. I'm not about to fuck it up now, alright?"

"Boyd…."

"Alright?"

She held his gaze anew, absorbing the candour in his expression, the firm resolution in his tone and she felt herself smile brilliantly, happiness cascading through her in golden waves. "Alright," she acquiesced softly.

"Good."

"Though speaking of decades, Boyd…."

He read her expression in an instant and shook his head firmly, kissing her tenderly once more in a tacit gesture of understanding. "It really doesn't matter, Grace."

"It's not just a question of being out of practice. Aging, it's…."

"Something that I'm equally as afflicted by," he assured her swiftly before blowing out a sharp breath. "Jesus, if you're expecting an Adonis you're going to be bitterly disappointed on all counts."

She chuckled softly, warmth flooding her chest at the sensitivity radiating from him in waves. "Likewise if you're expecting the Venus de Milo."

"Right; so we've established that neither of us is twenty-five anymore. Stop the bloody press, for fuck's sake."

Her smile widened briefly before she found herself releasing a sigh. "Boyd…."

"Look," he interjected gently, soberly. "I get it, Grace, alright? I really do. But can you not just accept that I know what I'm doing? That I know my own mind?"

"It's not about that."

"It's about trust, isn't it? You need to trust me."

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes raking across his for the confirmation of his words. "I do trust you."

"So, trust me then. The rest of it can wait until the morning."

She blinked, a sudden blanket of enraptured calm settling over her, the utter simplicity of the situation at once startling in its effortless clarity. "Okay," she replied quietly, feeling herself beginning to smile at the responding grin tugging at his features.

"Thank Christ," he intoned vehemently, swallowing her laughter as he kissed her anew, thoroughly determined to assuage her of her lingering doubts as he reached deftly for the intricate fastening of her dress.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer, Pairing, Rating & Spoilers**: See chapter 1.

**A/N**: Many, many apologies once again for the delay with this – my son has recently been in hospital again so I've been caught up wholeheartedly with that! This chapter marks the end of this fic – thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed, I really appreciate you taking the time! Everlasting thanks also to the OHT – your support means the world to me so thank you all x

* * *

><p>Grace leant back into the comfortable upholstery of her chair, her gaze tracing the retreating back of Peter Boyd as he sauntered slowly towards the breakfast buffet, her features creasing into a wide smile of their own accord, despite her determined efforts to the contrary. They had spent the past few hours lying languidly in the resplendent hotel bed, lazily exploring each other, learning the intimate landscape of each other's body in a gloriously unhurried etude. It had been a complementary contrast to the searing passion of the previous night, she mused with an ever broadening smile, the memories of both encounters flooding her once more with warmth, with the edgy beginnings of arousal. She watched him presently as he perused the food choices, absorbing the strong planes of his back and shoulders, the powerful lines of his thighs, and she was suddenly struck with an intense sensation of disbelief. <em>Ten bloody years,<em> she thought incredulously, _and I still can't quite believe we finally got here. And in the end being the wrong side of sixty didn't matter a damned bit…._

"Well, good morning."

Grace blinked rapidly from her reverie and glanced upwards into the knowing grin that was creasing the features of her eldest child. _Oh God,_ she thought with dread as Gina's eyebrows quirked questioningly towards her hairline, her daughter's teasing smile broadening widely. _She knows. She damn well knows…._

"Morning," the psychologist replied neutrally, her heart softening as the younger woman bent to kiss her cheek before slipping into the chair beside her. "Where's Claire?"

Gina rolled her eyes. "In the bloody pool, if you can believe that."

Grace smiled fondly. "Didn't fancy joining her, then?"

"God, no. It's a Sunday, for crying out loud."

"Not to mention the fact that you're hungover."

Gina pulled a face. "Hardly. I'm far too old and sensible these days."

"Is that right?"

"Sadly it is," the younger woman replied, reaching out for the coffee pot and pouring herself a generous mug. "So…what happened to you last night, then?"

Grace sipped from her tea, affixing a bemused expression to her face. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, come on, Mum. We agreed I'd knock for you this morning…and there was definitely no sign of you in your room."

The psychologist shrugged lightly, unable to meet her offspring's eye. "So, I went for a quick swim. Claire's not the only one who wants to get her money's worth, you know."

Gina chuckled softly and shook her head, her mother's deliberate evasion amusing her. "You are _such_ a bad liar."

"I'm a clinical psychologist, Gina…."

"Yeah. So if you were going to lie you could have at least made it sound convincing."

Grace narrowed her eyes. "I could quite easily have gone for a swim."

"Except that you didn't. Or at least if you did, you didn't leave from your own room." The younger woman grinned relentlessly. "Boyd a good swimmer, is he?"

"I've no idea."

"Oh, I think you do."

Grace held her daughter's gaze, absorbing the teasing glint in her eyes, the smirking edge to her tone, and she felt herself beginning to flush, the undeniable truth of her unused bed reasserting itself firmly in her mind. "Just…go and get some breakfast, love, will you?" she managed finally, groaning as she caught sight of her younger daughter making her way swiftly across the room in their direction.

Gina laughed heartily and raised her hand towards her sister. "What's the matter, Mum?"

"Your bloody partner in crime here. I'm not sure I can take the Spanish Inquisition from the both of you." She stood up to embrace her youngest child, brushing a tender kiss across her cheek. "Morning, love."

Beth frowned inquisitively as she reciprocated her mother's greeting, glancing questioningly towards her sister. "What's going on?"

"Well," Gina began mischievously, interrupting Grace as she took a breath to speak. "I think our mother wasted her money on her expensive hotel room."

"What?"

"In that she didn't actually spend any time in there last night."

Beth gave an enthusiastic squeal as Grace sighed loudly in mock irritation. "That's enough, Gina," she intoned sternly, another soft sigh escaping her lips as her younger daughter took a seat at the table.

"Really?" Beth asked excitedly, studiously ignoring the hardening edge to her mother's words. "Is it true, Mum?"

"Honestly. You're both as bad as each other." Grace rolled her eyes. "Is this really what you want to be talking about the morning after your wedding?"

"Why not?"

"What about discussing yesterday? What a great time you had, how nice it was to see everyone…."

"Nah. We did all that last night." Gina replied, pulling a face and grinning at her sister. "Not that you'd know, of course…."

"Since apparently you disappeared almost as soon as Mike and I did," Beth continued with a wry smile.

Grace exhaled in exasperation. "I didn't realise my movements were being so closely scrutinised."

"Well, of course they were. You brought a gorgeous man to my wedding that no-one's ever met before. Of course people were talking."

The psychologist raised an eyebrow, unable to stop her gaze from darting briefly towards the object of their discussion. "Gorgeous man?"

"Oh God, yeah. I can't believe it's taken 'til now for you to bag him."

Grace chuckled and shook her head. "That's a ridiculously out-dated phrase, you know."

"But you're not denying it, are you?"

"Not to mention what your lovely new husband would say to hear you describe another man in those terms so soon."

Beth fixed her mother with a glare. "Mum."

Grace shrugged evasively. "What do you want me to say, love?"

Gina leant forward to pre-empt her sister's reply. "We definitely don't want the details," she said firmly, a grimace briefly dancing across her features which made her mother smile. "But surely you can't blame us for wondering whether the two of you finally got your act together?"

"As opposed to what?"

"As opposed to the continued denial…."

"I'm not in denial."

"…Out of some kind of misplaced loyalty to Dad."

Grace sighed softly. "It's not misplaced, love. I've missed your father every day for the past twenty years."

"I know you have but…."

"The bottom line is, you deserve to be happy," Beth chimed in abruptly. "You've basically lived like a nun for two decades…."

"Beth!"

"It's about bloody time, is all I'm saying." The younger woman grinned wickedly, her expressive eyes sparkling. "If I were twenty years older I'd be fighting you for him."

"Oh, God," Gina groaned theatrically. "Jeremy bloody Kyle, here we come."

Grace laughed, a contented glow spreading warmly through her chest as she surveyed the smiling faces of her daughters, sobering gradually several moments later as a nagging thought began to gnaw at the edges of her mind. "So…it's not going to be a problem, then?" she asked hesitantly. "This…thing with Boyd?"

The girls exchanged disbelieving glances before returning their attention towards their mother, matching expressions of incredulity lacing their similar features. "How can you even ask that?" Gina intoned gently. "We're thrilled for you, Mum."

"All joking aside?"

"Of course," Beth replied, reaching forward to squeeze her mother's hand, her delicate features radiating warmth.

Grace felt relief flood resplendently through her bones followed by an intense surge of maternal pride. "Thank you," she murmured softly, her words partially constricting in her throat as her gratitude towards her children threatened to overwhelm her.

"Don't think this lets you off the hook as far as the teasing is concerned though," Gina warned mischievously. "We fully intend to milk this for all it's worth."

"Absolutely," agreed Beth with an impish grin. "We'll be rolling out the story of how you chose my wedding day to _finally_ get together…probably at every family event from now on."

Grace groaned loudly. "Great."

"It's got some serious mileage, this one…."

"Meaning you're unlikely to get bored of telling it any time soon?"

Gina laughed enthusiastically. "If ever, I'd say."

"Oh, terrific. Boyd will be thrilled."

Beth gestured with her chin and raised her eyebrows. "Speaking of whom…."

At her words, the three women looked in unison across the room to where Peter Boyd was beginning to walk back towards them, his hands laden with breakfast plates and a quizzical expression adorning his rugged features. He grinned widely as he reached the table, catching the amused demeanour of Grace's daughters as they regarded him, a sense of understanding settling readily about his shoulders.

"Morning, ladies," he opened easily, ignoring the profiler's soft sigh and the girls' stifled laughter. "Are you joining us?"

"No," Grace intoned firmly before either of her children could reply. "They're buggering off to find their long-suffering respective partners before they find themselves summarily excluded from my Will."

Beth formed a mock pout whilst her sister laughed jovially. "You're no fun," Gina complained with an affected sigh.

"You're right. I'm no fun at all."

"We _can_ behave when the occasion calls for it. And besides," she teased, her attention coming to rest on the imposing form still standing beside the table, her eyebrows curving upwards in challenge. "I'm sure Boyd can adequately defend himself."

"Against a two-thronged attack?" Boyd barked a short laugh. "I think my Police training would be rendered useless after about thirty seconds."

"Oh, come on; don't sell yourself short, Superintendent. Why don't you give it a minute and find out?"

"_No_," Grace repeated more forcefully, causing her three companions to break into simultaneous laughter. "I mean it, girls."

Beth giggled and stretched to kiss her mother loudly on the cheek before rising to her feet. "We'll finish the Third Degree later, then, shall we?"

"I'm serious. Nick's share of my meagre fortune is looking healthier by the minute here."

Gina chuckled and shook her head, following in her sister's wake and standing from her chair, grinning at her mother as she impulsively approached Boyd and pressed a kiss to his cheek, gratification filling her as she felt him squeeze her waist in response. "I don't need to tell you to take care of her, do I?" she asked softly, aware of the suddenly serious edge to her voice, an acute need for reassurance reverberating through her stomach.

Boyd gave a small shake of his head, his dark eyes radiating his veracity. "You don't."

"Good." She smiled brilliantly before turning her head to wink at her mother. "I'll leave you to it, then."

The girls sauntered slowly away leaving Boyd to sink into the chair beside Grace, his eyes tracing the retreating backs of her daughters before he addressed her. "I take it they know," he opened dryly.

Grace sighed, reaching for the coffee pot to replenish his cup. "They do," she confirmed reluctantly. "Unfortunately very little gets past them. Never has."

"That sounds familiar. Must be something genetic."

She rolled her eyes and nudged his shoulder. "Shut up."

"Or it's that whole nature-nurture debate, I don't know."

"Whichever. All I know is I've been mercilessly teased since the minute they sat down."

Boyd shrugged and took a large sip from his coffee. "It might have some advantages, you know. The fact that your kids aren't in the dark."

Grace frowned. "How's that?"

He gave a feral grin and stretched back in his seat to wrap an arm about her waist, squeezing her body closer in to his, her predictable soft gasp of surprise amusing him. "Means I don't have to keep myself so much in check," he explained throatily, pressing a gentle kiss to her hair before pulling back to look at her.

Her gaze was withering, though a smile tugged readily at the corners of her mouth, her sapphire eyes dancing playfully. "You most certainly do."

"Pull away, then. I'm not stopping you."

"It's called decorum, Boyd. Even if my children are happy for me they're not going to want to see…."

"What? This?" He leant forwards and kissed her firmly, his lips lingering briefly on hers before he pulled away to grin mischievously at her. "Suitably embarrassed?"

Grace shook her head in mock disapproval, though she was well aware her skin was flushed and her eyes were sparkling. "Happy now?"

His lascivious smile broadened. "Absolutely."

She rolled her eyes. "You're incorrigible."

"I am," he agreed easily, brushing his mouth across hers once more to silence her half-hearted protests, settling her back beneath his arm momentarily and breathing a contented sigh at the effortlessly organic fit of her body to his.

"So," she said eventually, after several moments spent luxuriating in his embrace, warmth enveloping her at his unselfconscious approach to their public affection. "Do we need to have a conversation about where we go from here or is it still far too early in the morning?"

Boyd groaned loudly, turning his face towards her hair to muffle the sound. "Do you really want me to answer that now?"

Grace chuckled softly and knowingly shook her head. "I suppose I rather set myself up there, didn't I?"

"You obviously forgot who you were talking to."

"I'm not senile yet, Boyd."

"You were just hoping for a different answer."

She shrugged lightly. "Simply wanted to plant the seed in your mind, that's all."

"Well, thanks, Grace. Credit me with a little intelligence, why don't you?"

She blinked towards him and raised her eyebrows questioningly, faintly surprised at the jagged edge to his tone. "What does that mean?"

He exhaled forcefully before speaking again, his chest shuddering with the sudden expulsion of air. "It means…that of course I've thought about it…."

Grace raised a swift palm to pre-empt him. "Boyd…."

"…and all night I've been trying to work out whose house is worth the most."

His quietly assured and wholly unexpected statement stole the breath from her body in a rush and she felt herself gasp, her cheeks flooding with colour. "What?"

He grinned slowly, his dark eyes reflecting a kaleidoscope of emotion. "You heard me."

"I did…." She paused briefly to will herself back to equilibrium, her habitual tendency to temper potential happiness with self-doubt battling fiercely with the upspring of joy welling from deep within her soul. _Oh, God…he's saying….._

"So, come on, what's your take on it, then? Your place or mine?"

Grace forced herself to blink from her conflicted introspection, the suddenly surreal nature of their conversation unnerving her. "Well…," she managed falteringly, breaking off and giving a small laugh of incredulity as her reply wound itself in a knot around her mind and finally eluded her grasp. "Sorry."

His smile was boyishly playful. "Lost for words, Grace?"

Her own smile was sheepish. "There's a first time for everything, isn't there?" She paused briefly and turned in her chair to face him, a cloud of solemnity settling abruptly across her shoulders as she looked at him. "Are you being serious?"

Boyd sighed heavily before stretching forward to kiss her gently, frustration arcing through his nerves at the waves of uncertainty radiating from her body. "Deadly serious," he breathed intensely as he pulled away. "I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't."

"You don't think it's too soon?"

He barked a raucous laugh, drawing the attention of several tables of people throughout the opulent dining room, the sound deepening as his companion slapped a warning against his thigh with her palm.

"Boyd, for God's sake…," she complained in a harsh undertone, rolling her eyes as he continued in his mirth beside her. "It was a simple enough question."

"Oh, come on; it was a ridiculous question," he countered finally, his laughter beginning rapidly to abate beneath the chill of her glare. "Ten _years_, Grace…."

"Or twelve hours, depending on how you look at it."

He looked at her steadily, seriously, at once utterly determined to convey the voracity of his feelings, the depth of emotion he had held firmly within his control for the majority of their association. "Ten years."

Grace held his gaze unwaveringly, absorbing the unrelenting sincerity, the fierce devotion emanating from the very core of his being and suddenly she felt the firmly rooted tendrils of fear release their vice on her heart, her doubt dissipating into a fine mist and floating resolutely into the ether. "Your place, then," she said softly, unable to prevent herself from smiling as his features slackened in obvious delight and relief. "It's a more desirable location, much as I hate to admit it."

"Not to mention the fact it's barely been lived in for the better part of a decade."

"Quite." She shook her head incredulously, amazed at the startling simplicity of what she had previously perceived as insurmountable impossibility. "That's it, then, is it?"

He shrugged. "Do we need to discuss it further?"

"No. I'm just pondering why I ever thought this would be so complicated, that's all."

"Hm," he agreed with a nod. "Makes you wonder why we didn't have the balls years ago, doesn't it?"

She smiled. "I don't know. There's something…almost fate-like about it all having happened now…."

Boyd gave a derisive snort. "Please."

"Like a letting go. A surrendering to…."

"Don't make me change my mind, Grace," he warned with mock severity. "The house isn't on the bloody market yet and I…."

She kissed him swiftly to stem the tide, her lips tracing his with agonisingly blissful restraint before she retreated to lay a gentle hand atop his heart. "Shut up, Boyd," she intoned softly, a fascinated smile lacing her features as he fought to supress a frustrated moan.

"Do that again and I just might," he replied huskily, grinning wolfishly as he leant towards her once more. "Let's get out of here."

Grace raised a quizzical eyebrow. "As in…?"

"As in back to the room, back home; I don't care. Suddenly I've got a powerful urge to make up for lost time."

She laughed joyously, utterly thrilled by the intensity of his words, by the dark fire blazing across his eyes, and she rose quickly to her feet and held out her hand to him. "Come on, then. I heard somewhere that practice makes perfect…."

His responding laughter was riotous, reverberating deeply about the bones of his chest and he took her hand gladly, standing to wrap a proprietary arm about her slender waist as he led her from the room and towards the inviting vicissitude of their previously undiscovered road.

FIN


End file.
